#i am the least assertive person ever

[trials-era-sam]

was asked if i could do jobs that would mean i would work super long hours this week. mentioned this and asked if they'd be okay if i increased my rate. they said yes.

IS THIS WHAT FREELANCING IS. I'VE BEEN DOING THIS SHIT FOR 5 YEARS AND ONLY NOW FEEL LIKE A GIRLBOSS

[utaite-mun]

if youre anti-bakugou and you are interacting with my monoma metas, i am blocking you people

im adding text to the body of the posts so if you want to get the original, youre getting a message that it was not created with the intent for usage in anti-bakugou posting (it will deter people, i know how tumblr is, but you WILL know you are going against my intent with it)

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[mechaknight-98]

Trepidation (NSFW) FT Dahyun

Operator’s notes: Ah yes I remember why Dubu was my first biases. It's always weird coming to your first and confronting who you were and what you used to be. As I grow she will always have a soft spot in my heart and can be written about any time.

"Are you not wearing a bra either?" I ask noticing that her breasts look extra perky under the dress. Dahyun smirks, and I respond.

"When you get home tonight I am going to fuck you all over." Dahyun smiles. She turns around and lifts the dress just enough so I can see her pale bare ass, and I really have to fight the urge to just pound her glistening pussy until she screams my name again and again.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." She coos. I smile as I remember how different we are.

"What happened to the good Christian Girl I met at bible camp?" I tease.

"She's still in here, it's just you know things change baby." she asserts, "What about the devoted Christian boy I met at bible camp? When did he become this insatiable writer and musician?" I chuckled and said

"When the world burned."

She smiled as she left for her fashion show. I sat at the chair's desk as I was considering my next move. Do I wait for Dubu to get home and run the risk of being disgustingly horny for her? Or do I enjoy the city and get her something I know she'd appreciate? The latter won out. I left our little temporary abode to explore the city.

"Sorry I couldn't invite you." was the text I got 45 minutes later with a picture. I considered opening it but knew it would be a bad idea. She had always been the excitable type. Easy to laugh with and around. Always pushing boundaries but for the right reasons.

It reminded me of when I met her for the first time all those years ago.

I wasn’t expecting much from the summer camp, to be honest. Just another week of bonfires, awkward icebreakers, and singing along to acoustic guitars under the stars. It did get me out of the last major week of preseason workouts for football so I took it. I had signed up at the last minute and was dragged into it by my youth group friends who seemed way more excited about spending a week in the middle of nowhere than I was.

But I was, sitting on the worn wooden benches, squinting in the early morning sun as campers trickled in. That’s when I saw her—this girl with bright eyes and a smile that seemed too wide for her face. She was laughing, chatting with a group of kids near the front. Something about her stood out like she didn’t fit the usual camp vibe. She was small, but her energy was huge.

I noticed her before I even realized it. She was the kind of person you couldn’t help but notice.

And then, as if it was nothing, she caught me staring.

Before I could look away, she waved. Not the polite, distant kind of wave you give to strangers, but the full-on, excited wave you grant when you see an old friend across a crowded room. Except I had never seen her before in my life.

She started walking toward me. I felt my stomach do this weird flip, like she was a celebrity or something, though she definitely wasn’t. At least, not yet.

“Hey!” she said when she got close, her voice carrying this bright, chirpy tone. “I’m Dahyun. Is this seat taken?”

I blinked, not sure why she was choosing to sit with me when she clearly had a whole squad already. “Uh, no, go ahead.”

She dropped down onto the bench next to me, folding her legs under her in a way that looked way too comfortable for the stiff, splintery wood. She turned to face me fully, her wide smile still there, like she was genuinely excited to talk to a total stranger.

“I’m—uh—" I stammered, completely thrown off by how forward she was. “I’m, uh, Daiju.”

She held out her hand for a shake like this was a formal introduction or something. I took it awkwardly, and she gave it a firm shake, way more confident than I’d ever been.

“So, what brings you here, Daiju? Just trying to survive the week like the rest of us?” She laughed, and it was this carefree, musical sound that made it impossible not to smile back.

“Pretty much. My friends kind of forced me into it. I’m not really… you know, the camp type.”

She tilted her head, studying me for a second, and then shrugged. “Yeah, same. My church sent me. I usually just hang out on the piano during stuff like this, but they said I had to get out more. Make friends.” She wiggled her fingers in the air, as if "making friends" was a strange concept.

“You play piano?”

Her eyes lit up, and for a split second, I saw a different side of her—like she was picturing something far beyond the camp, something she was passionate about. “Yeah, a little. And I sing. You know, just for fun.”

“That’s cool. I, uh, I can’t really do either,” I admitted, feeling a little embarrassed. “I tried guitar once, but I’m pretty hopeless.”

Dahyun laughed again, nudging me with her elbow. “Well, you’ll get plenty of practice this week. Trust me.”

I wasn’t sure what it was about her, but something told me she was right. That week was going to be different. Something about her made everything feel like it mattered more than it did before.

And that was just the first ten minutes. The rest of the week was a blur as I got to know Dahyun more. When I wasn't with my youth group I was with her in the instrument room listening to her play the piano. During one of these sessions, she noticed that I was always tapping a beatline to whatever she would play. She had me go to the drums and handed me two sticks before saying. "Don't speak. Don't think. Feel" Confused I sat next to the drums under her patient gaze. I had grown quite fond of that particular look and felt. I started with a simple beat of drum you stomp then started hitting the big circle drum on the right, then incorporated the other kick one that had the cymbals attached. Dahyun was amazed.

"I knew it. You do have talent," she said as she scurried back to the Piano. She started playing again and I adjusted my beat to match or better align with her melody. as I jammed with her for that moment. I felt at peace and that this was where I was supposed to be and who I was fated to be with. After our little Jam session, I noticed both of our youth groups were watching. They were shocked.

"Daiju you can play the drums?" Josiah asked

I shook my head as I got up, Dahyun called for me and I turned around she had the biggest smile before she ran over to me and said, "Don't let your heart lose itself." I smiled and said

"I won't," I said with weak confidence.

Taken out of my Little trip down memory lane I found myself at our favorite restaurant, before heading back to our home.

When I arrived I set the food down and went to the drum kit next to the piano, and I began to play.

Dahyun came home tired but when she heard me playing the drums her heart soared. It had been quite some time since she last heard me play.

It reminded her of the last year before she entered to be a trainee with JYP.

It had been a few months since the camp ended, and life had gone back to its usual rhythm. School, homework, and hanging out with friends. But something had stuck with me from that week—the memories of late-night talks with Dahyun by the campfire, the way her voice sounded when she hummed along to the guitar, and the fact that, out of all the people there, we stayed in touch.

We hadn’t spoken much in a couple of weeks, so when my phone lit up with a video call from her, I couldn’t help but smile. I tapped to answer, and there she was, her face filling the screen, that same bright grin instantly bringing me back to the camp.

“Daiju!” she greeted, using the nickname she had started calling me for no reason other than it made her laugh. “What’s up?”

“Not much, just the usual grind. You?”

She leaned back in her chair, her face slightly dimming as the light from her screen flickered on her features. “Yeah, same here. Well… sort of.”

I raised an eyebrow, picking up on the hesitation in her voice. “Sort of?”

Dahyun bit her lip like she was trying to decide whether to say something. Then she sighed, leaning in closer to the camera. “Okay, I’ve got something to tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out.”

“Freak out? Now I’m intrigued,” I said, leaning forward as if that would bring me any closer to whatever she was about to say. “What’s going on?”

She laughed nervously, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Alright, so… you remember how I told you I sing, right? And play piano?”

“Yeah, of course. You were basically the camp’s unofficial performer.” I grinned, remembering how she’d turned every free moment into an impromptu concert, even if it was just humming some random tune. “Why?”

She paused and then let out a deep breath. “So, this is kinda crazy, but… I got scouted. Like, to be a singer. For real.”

For a moment, I thought I’d misheard her. “Wait, what? Like, scouted as in…?”

“As in, someone from a company heard me sing during this church event back home, and they think I have potential. I’ve had a couple of meetings already.” Her eyes lit up as she spoke, the excitement mixing with nervous energy. “I might actually become a trainee for this K-pop company. It’s still early, but… it’s real, Daiju.”

I stared at her through the screen, trying to wrap my head around what she just said. “You’re serious? Like… K-pop? Like the stuff you hear on the radio?”

She nodded, a huge smile spreading across her face. “Yeah. I know, it’s insane, right? I didn’t believe it at first either, but they’re really interested in me. They want to train me—vocals, dance, the whole package.”

I blinked, trying to imagine her in that world—the girl I met at camp, the one who was always so down-to-earth, suddenly living this intense, high-pressure life as a potential star. “Wow… that’s incredible, Dahyun. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Me neither, honestly,” she said, laughing. “I mean, I’m excited, but it’s kind of scary too. Like, I’ve always loved singing, but this is next level. The whole training thing is intense. It’s not just fun anymore—it’s serious.”

I could see the mixture of excitement and fear in her eyes. I knew she was capable, but the reality of that life was overwhelming, even to think about.

“What do your parents think?” I asked, still trying to process everything.

“They’re supportive, but they’re worried, you know? I mean, it’s a huge commitment. If I go through with this, it’s going to change everything.”

I nodded, understanding the weight of what she was saying. “Yeah, I get that. Do you want to do it?”

She went quiet for a second, her eyes drifting off-screen like she was looking for the answer somewhere in her room. Then she smiled softly, a different kind of smile—one that felt more certain, more grounded. “I think I do. I mean, it’s scary, but it feels like an opportunity I can’t pass up. I’ve always wanted to do something with my music. And now… maybe I can.”

I watched her, feeling a strange mixture of pride and anxiety. It was amazing to see her chasing her dreams, but a part of me worried about what would happen to her—what would happen to us—once she stepped into that world.

“Well, whatever happens, I know you’ll be amazing,” I said, meaning every word. “You’ve got this, Dahyun. I mean, I knew from camp that you were going to do something big. This is just… huge.”

She smiled again, this time more relaxed. “Thanks, Daiju. That means a lot. I’ll keep you updated, but… if this works out, things might get really crazy.”

“I can handle crazy,” I said, grinning. “Just don’t forget about your campfire singing buddies when you’re famous.”

She laughed, the sound filling the call with warmth. “I could never forget you guys. And hey, maybe one day I’ll get you backstage at one of my shows.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

The call carried on after that, but in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop thinking about how everything was about to change. For her, for me—for both of us. And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.

Dahyun opened the door to our shared home and said, “Looks like that spark never left.”

I looked up, smiling at her. She was still in that sexy dress I loved, her eyes glowing with warmth.

“Well, my lovely lady friend never gave up on me, so I never gave up on her.”

Dahyun gave me her cute, gummy smile and a nostalgic glint flashed in her eyes. “This reminds me of how we met two years ago.”

We laughed, letting the memory of the past wash over us. It felt good, to remember how simple things used to be. But even as we laughed, something inside me tugged at the years in between—the time when things weren’t so easy.

It was right after she signed with JYP, just after the whirlwind of training sessions, vocal lessons, and dance practices took over her life. At first, we tried to keep in touch. Text messages, voice notes, and the occasional video call when she had a moment to breathe. But as the weeks stretched into months, it became harder and harder to keep our connection alive.

One night, I was waiting for her call. We hadn’t spoken in days, and I knew she was busy, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing. The time apart was starting to weigh on me. I watched the clock, waiting, the silence filling the space between us.

Finally, my phone buzzed. A message popped up: “Hey, sorry! Can’t call tonight. Long practice. Will try tomorrow. Miss you!”

I stared at the screen, the words feeling hollow. Tomorrow? What happened tonight? What happened to us?

It wasn’t the first time she’d had to cancel, but this time, it felt different. The gap between us was growing wider, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t reach her. It wasn’t her fault—her dream was coming true, and I didn’t want to be the one to hold her back. But a part of me ached every time I thought about how little time we had left together.

And then, as the weeks passed, the calls stopped coming altogether.

I remember the exact moment it happened. It was a few months after Dahyun’s debut. I was sitting alone, scrolling through social media, when I came across a picture of her at some event—glamorous, smiling, surrounded by fans and fellow idols. She looked so happy, so distant from the girl I once knew. It hurt as I had grown immensely fond of her but I guess it was just never meant to work out.

That was when I realized I wasn’t part of her world anymore.

I tried to convince myself that it was for the best. Her life had changed, and I didn’t fit into it anymore. The constant rehearsals, the endless schedules, the strict rules from her company. I knew about the restrictions—no dating, no public relationships, no distractions from the career. She had become something bigger than us, something bigger than me.

But it still hurt. I missed her. And, little by little, I had to let her go.

Years passed, and I moved on—or at least I thought I had. Life in LA had become routine. I had a decent job, good friends, and a steady rhythm to my days. Dahyun had faded into the background of my life, a distant memory I tried not to think about too often. I had put my instruments away and stopped playing altogether, it just hurt too much.

Until that day.

I was walking through the bustling streets of LA, lost in thought when I saw her. She was standing on the sidewalk, her back turned to me. Sunglasses perched on top of her head, her hair a little longer than I remembered. She was dressed casually, blending in with the crowd, but there was something about the way she stood—the confidence, the grace—that made me stop in my tracks.

Without thinking, I called out, “Dahyun?”

She turned slowly, her eyes scanning the crowd before landing on me. For a second, I thought I was dreaming. There she was, right in front of me, looking just like she had all those years ago. The same bright smile, the same spark in her eyes.

“Daiju?” Her voice was soft, and hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if she was really seeing me.

I couldn’t believe it. After all this time, after all the silence between us, here she was. “It’s… it’s been a while.”

She smiled, a little nervously, but there was warmth there too. “Yeah. It really has. Wow, you've gotten so tall.”

I chuckled and said, "Yeah I guess that's true, but I mean look at you? you look gorgeous." Dahyun gave me a gummy smile as she did a little dance for me. I smiled as she did

We stood there, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, the noise of the city fading into the background. Everything that had happened between us, everything we had lost, hung in the air between us like a ghost.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

She laughed, a soft, bittersweet sound. “Me neither. I… I thought about you. A lot.”

I looked at her, trying to read her expression. “Did you?”

She nodded, taking a step closer. “Yeah. I wanted to reach out, but… you know how it is. The company, the rules. It wasn’t just about me anymore.”

I swallowed, feeling the weight of all the things I had wanted to say over the years. “I get it. You were living your dream. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

She looked down at her feet, her smile fading slightly. “But I missed you, Daiju. More than I can say.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the chest. All the hurt, all the time apart, it didn’t matter anymore. Not when she was standing right in front of me.

“I missed you too,” I said, my voice thick with emotion.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then, with a deep breath, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with something I hadn’t seen in years—hope. “So… what now?”

I smiled, feeling the old spark between us flicker back to life. “Well, I guess we could start with dinner. It’s been a long time since we had a proper catch-up.”

She laughed, a sound that was both familiar and new at the same time. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Later, we found ourselves sitting in a quiet little restaurant, tucked away from the bustle of LA. The place was cozy, dimly lit, the kind of spot where you could have a real conversation without being interrupted.

“So,” I said, setting my drink down. “What’s life been like for you? I mean, apart from the whole ‘global superstar’ thing.”

She smiled, a little shyly, stirring her tea. “It’s been… overwhelming, honestly. Everything happened so fast. One day I was training, and the next, I was performing in front of thousands of people. It’s been amazing, but exhausting too.”

“I can imagine,” I said. “Do you ever get any time for yourself?”

Dahyun shrugged, her expression softening. “Not really. I mean, there are moments, like now, where I can just be me. But most of the time, it’s all about the image, the performance. It’s… a lot of pressure.”

“I’m sure,” I said, leaning forward. “But you’re handling it. I can tell.”

She smiled, her eyes glinting with that old fire. “I’m trying. But you know, sometimes I miss the simpler days. Like when we were at camp, just hanging out and making music for fun.”

I nodded, feeling a pang of nostalgia. “Yeah, those were good times.”

She looked at me for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. “You know, I’ve got a show tomorrow night. It’s in town. You should come.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I’ll get you a backstage pass,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “It’ll be just like old times—except with a few more lights and a bigger audience.”

I chuckled, feeling that familiar warmth spreading through me. “I’d love to. It sounds amazing, but I'll have you know I still don't speak Korean.”

Dahyun smiled, her hand brushing mine across the table. “ That's fine. Then it’s a date.” after dinner we smiled and went our separate ways.

The next day I got a call from Dahyun on where to meet here and when. I arrived a little early as did Dahyun as we pulled up nearly at the same time. She jumps in my car and says,

"So what kind of music do you listen to now?" she asks,

"Mostly metal and rap. However, I did do a crash course on Twice and Kpop as a whole."

Dahyun smiled, "Ooh, and Do you have any favorites?"

"Oh yeah G-idle, Fromis_9, and Le Sserafim," I responded. Dahyun pouted.

"I meant our songs."

"Oh, I am so sorry."

"Okay here is my list of top favorite Twice songs: Perfect World, Hello, Moonlight Sunrise, and Feel Special."

"Oh, you like Perfect World?"

"Are you kidding me? That song is amazing and you all look so gorgeous," I said with a smile as I pulled up the album. "You know the girl with the short hair and the tanned skin she is so beautiful. I might have a crush on her." I tease. Dahyun looks at me devastated, and I laugh before saying, "Don't worry you still have my heart." Dahyun relaxes as she looks at me before we head to the stadium. All is quiet as we sit next to each other, before heading in.

The dimmed lights of the concert hall hummed with quiet intensity as the crowd outside waited for the show to begin. But backstage, it was a completely different world—organized chaos, as staff members hurried back and forth, setting up equipment, testing sound systems, and finalizing last-minute details.

Dahyun, dressed in casual yet chic stage prep clothes, led me through the maze of backstage corridors, her hand occasionally brushing against mine. The air smelled of makeup, hairspray, and that electrifying mix of anticipation that only a concert venue could have.

“So, this is what it’s like behind the scenes, huh?” I asked, glancing around at the bustle.

“Yup,” she said, smiling at me. “Crazy, right? It’s a whole different vibe back here.”

“It’s a lot,” I admitted, taking it all in. “But I guess you’re used to it by now.”

Dahyun shrugged, her expression softening. “Kind of. You never really get used to the adrenaline before a show, though. But it’s fun. It’s like… home in a weird way.”

As we walked, she pointed out the different sections—wardrobe, hair and makeup, and the green room where the members usually chilled before going on stage. She was mid-sentence, explaining how the stage setup worked when we rounded a corner and nearly collided with two familiar faces.

Jihyo and Nayeon stood there, arms crossed, grinning like two kids who had just stumbled on a secret.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?” Nayeon teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she eyed the space between Dahyun and me.

Dahyun stopped in her tracks, her cheeks flushing a light pink. “Oh, hey guys. I, um—this is Daiju,” she said, a little awkwardly.

Jihyo’s eyebrows shot up, her grin widening. “Daiju, huh? As in the Daiju?” She nudged Nayeon, who giggled like she was in on some joke I wasn’t privy to.

“Yeah,” Dahyun muttered, looking mildly embarrassed. “This is him.”

Nayeon took a step forward, extending her hand to me with an exaggerated flourish. “Nice to finally meet you, Daiju. Dahyun’s mentioned you before.”

“She has?” I asked, glancing at Dahyun, whose face was growing redder by the second.

“Only a million times,” Jihyo chimed in, stepping up beside Nayeon. “You’re the guy from the camp, right? The one she wouldn’t stop talking about?”

Dahyun shot her a warning look, but Jihyo just laughed. “What? It’s true! You were all ‘Daiju this, Daiju that’ back when we first started out.”

“I was not!” Dahyun protested though she wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Nayeon said, winking at me. “She definitely wasn’t gushing about you during practice breaks. Nope, not at all.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, watching Dahyun squirm under their playful teasing. “I guess I made an impression.”

“You did,” Dahyun muttered, still embarrassed but with a small smile creeping onto her face.

Jihyo and Nayeon exchanged glances, their grins growing even wider.

“Oh, this is too cute,” Nayeon said, clapping her hands together. “You know what this means, right, Jihyo?”

Jihyo nodded sagely. “Oh, definitely. Dahyun, you’ve got to bring Daiju on tour with us. We’ll need some moral support backstage. And you’ll have someone to stare at you with heart eyes while you’re on stage.”

Dahyun groaned, burying her face in her hands. “You guys are the worst.”

Nayeon laughed, patting Dahyun’s shoulder. “Relax, we’re just messing with you. Besides, we’re happy for you.”

Jihyo nodded, giving Dahyun a warm smile. “Yeah, seriously. It’s good to see you like this, Dahyun.”

Dahyun peeked out from behind her hands, a sheepish grin tugging at her lips. “Thanks, guys.”

Nayeon turned to me, her eyes twinkling again. “You’re coming to the show tonight, right?”

“Yeah, Dahyun invited me,” I said.

“Good,” Nayeon said with a mock-serious nod. “Make sure you scream really loud when we’re on stage. Especially during Dahyun’s solo.”

Jihyo smirked. “Or better yet, hold up a big sign that says, ‘Marry me, Dahyun!’ That’ll definitely get you noticed.”

“Guys!” Dahyun groaned though she was laughing now, her earlier embarrassment melting away.

I just grinned, playing along. “I’ll see what I can do about the sign.”

Nayeon and Jihyo burst out laughing, and even Dahyun couldn’t help but giggle. It felt good, to be here with her, surrounded by her friends. There was something natural about it, like even though years had passed, and our lives had gone in completely different directions, some things hadn’t changed.

“Well, we’ve got to go finish getting ready,” Jihyo said, waving as she and Nayeon started to walk away. “We’ll see you later, Daiju!”

“Good luck!” I called after them.

Once they were out of earshot, Dahyun let out a long breath, shaking her head with a smile. “Sorry about that. They’re… a little much sometimes.”

“They seem fun,” I said, still grinning.

“They are. But I swear, they never let me live anything down.”

“Sounds like they care about you a lot.”

Dahyun smiled softly. “Yeah, they do. They’re like my second family.”

I could hear the fondness in her voice, and it made me realize just how much her life had changed. But standing there, backstage with her, sharing laughs and old memories, it felt like maybe I still had a place in her world.

She looked at me, her eyes twinkling. “Come on, I’ll show you where we do soundcheck. You’ll get to see the real behind-the-scenes magic.”

I followed her deeper into the backstage maze, the air buzzing with excitement. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like everything was falling back into place. As I watched the concert I fell back in love with Dahyun all over again. She was so at ease. So charming on stage I couldn't help but be proud of her, but also felt a deep sadness settle in as the concert wrapped up, because I knew this renewed connection was temporary, and when Dahyun walked off stage and her eyes met mine she felt it too.

She walked over to me and hugged me tight before leaning in close.

"I don't want to lose you again." you both said while you embraced.

Dahyun looked up at you and memories of video calls, and all the time spent together have you overwhelmed emotionally to the point you say

"Dahyun I love you and I always have. Can we figure something out?" Dahyun smiles and then says

"Of course."

The memory collapses now as I bring her in for a kiss. Dahyun's arms wrap around my shoulders as I carry her to the bed. I watch as her dress does little to hide her deadly curves before setting her down on our bed.

"I have been waiting for you all day," I say as I lift up her dress to see her delicious pale body.

"Oh stop teasing me and fuck me, my good Christian boy."

"Ah well, anything for the good Christian girl I saw as we kiss again.

[autistichalsin]

I know I express dissatisfaction a lot about how hard it is to get Halsin upset at the player- how no amount of mistreatment from a romanced player will make him break up with them, how he NEVER asserts a boundary, how he tolerates even the most cruel comments. The rare times he expresses hurt, it still changes nothing about his interactions with the player and rarely costs more than one approval.

The reason I express this most of all with the new datamined dialogue is for two reasons: one, that one is so beyond the pale that it needs to be treated as evil, and should include Halsin saying so. But also, if Halsin won't even call it quits with a romanced player after THIS, it raises some really worrying implications.

Halsin should be allowed to have ONE situation where he'll go "no more" to the player's cruelty because... honestly? The pattern the writers established here actually makes me worried for Halsin.

Halsin rarely shows offense or anger at lines no matter how mean they are (even the player shooting down his romantic overture by comparing him to a deep rothe gets a hurt response but no loss of approval or scolding or anything). He stays with the player romantically even after they threaten to sell him back into sexual slavery in the new dialogue- he doesn't even lose a single approval point! And while he gets annoyed if the player toys with his heart by nearly breaking up with him multiple times and then changing their mind, even after the fourth time the player does this, when he says "sometimes it is difficult to love you," the implication there is clear- he still DOES love you. Even when he is deeply hurt by what you're doing, so much so that he straight up asks you, "does it please you to see me crestfallen?" and loses approval, he STILL doesn't break up with you or assert himself- he doesn't say next time is the last time, he doesn't call the player an asshole, nothing. He just takes it even when he gets hurt and upset again and again. In short: Halsin puts up with a LOT of manipulative, borderline abusive behavior from the player without more than an occasional ding in approval.

Then you add in Halsin's backstory of sexual slavery, him losing all of his family, being so socially isolated from his leadership role that he began to MISS being a sex slave, his sadness but quiet acceptance at the fact that everyone thinks his feelings can't be hurt due to his size, his survivor guilt over the shadow curse, and the fact that the player, even if they choose to mistreat him, is still the one who broke the curse with him, leaving him feeling permanently feeling indebted to them.

In other words: what the game is showing us ISN'T a wise and stoic, sage old elf who is just that unshakeable after all he's seen. They are showing us a man with so much unprocessed trauma and such a complete lack of personal boundaries that he is showing several warning signs he could easily end up the victim of domestic violence by a partner- whether that's evil!Tav or some other potential partner he might find after canon- without ever realizing it.

The other romanceable characters will dump you if you mistreat them or violate the terms of the relationship (I.E. sleeping with someone else when they made it clear they weren't poly). They all, even Astarion, have more willingness to stand up for themselves than Halsin does.

Halsin isn't a pushover, or at least, I don't think we're supposed to read him as one. He will fight whatever enemies he needs to. But when it comes to those close to him- and note that he calls the player his friend in ALL circumstances- he just refuses. The most is a ding of approval at times or a very quiet, quick comment that basically amounts to "that wasn't cool :( " before he moves on.

I know it wasn't what the writers intended, but it's what comes across in the text all the same.

(This is also why, on top of headcanoning Halsin as autistic, I am also firmly convinced he was bullied as a child- he just acts far too much like a grown-up victim of bullying)

[jesncin]

A Failure of Asian Lois Lane: Pt 2: My Adventures with Superman, an honest discussion

If I had to pinpoint the fundamental problem with My Adventures with Superman's depiction of Asian Lois Lane it's in their attempt to subvert the classic two person love triangle: Lois loves Superman but is indifferent to Clark Kent. In MAWS, Lois insta-crushes on Clark Kent and hates Superman. In the show's attempt to make sense of this dynamic, Lois' Asian identity becomes at odds with a story meant to touch on xenophobia and immigrant themes.

Let's have an honest discussion about a show that made fandom cheer as an Asian character removed the one thing that made her most visibly Asian.

Disclaimer: While I am of East Asian descent, I am not Korean. I'll be discussing general Asian diasporic experiences but the specifics of Korean culture are outside of my knowledge (as usual I can't and don't speak for every Asian person ever, I am 1 opinion). Secondly, I'll be pulling from my personal experiences every now and then particularly pertaining to being a butch Asian person watching this show. It'll be a mix of formal analysis and personal anecdotes. Thirdly, this isn't an exhaustive analysis of MAWS Lois' character. We'll be sticking to what I consider is relevant to themes of Asian identity and immigration. Lastly once more, I do not believe the MAWS crew had malicious intent in any (of what I consider) poor writing decisions. We're here to analyze and challenge these writing decisions.

Please read Pt 1 of Asian Lois analysis that covers the comics, as it provides the groundwork for the ideas expanded on in this essay.

We need to talk about Lois' design. In the follow up to MAWS' release, people have been speculating on Lois' ethnicity. CBR writes that the show has "some fans believing that she's at least part Asian" and other articles have the show crew confirm Lois Korean heritage via her hanbok outfit in episode 4. The existence of these articles, my own anecdotal experience of streaming MAWS with Asian friends, and comments I receive from people asserting Lois' Asian identity was never explored in the show ("you'd only know she was Asian if you searched up articles about it"), tells me we have a case of an ambiguously designed Asian woman. Tangentially many people had no idea Livewire, the white haired and blue eyed woman, was meant to be South Asian.

There's a lot to be said about art styles that don't properly stylize ethnic features, but for the purposes of our analysis that means the writing has to deliver the heavy lifting where the design fails. This is the opposite case of American Alien: a comic that relied on the art to portray Asian Lois.

Let's start at episode 3. In it, Lois finally manages to conduct a private interview with the elusive Superman. When she asks where Superman comes from, how his powers work, etc- Superman comes up empty. In this version, Superman can't talk to his Kryptonian father (Jor-El)'s hologram because of a language barrier, so he knows very little about his alien heritage. He leaves Lois, assuring her he's here to help the people of Metropolis. When Clark Kent congratulates her for interviewing Superman, Lois rebuffs him. "Oh, he's [Superman's] a liar." smirking as she says it. This is the start of the Lois Hates Superman For Being a Liar arc.

I'd like you to consider the optics of an Asian American woman interviewing an alien immigrant who honestly told her he doesn't know where he comes from and is still figuring out who he is, only for her to think he's lying. Because she didn't get the answers she wanted. I can't help but think about my own experiences, where I was asked "but where do you really come from?" or "okay but what's your real name?" I think of my Asian American peers who would honestly say they're from Texas or Atlanta and get a vindictive "you're lying" as a response. People want to hear you're from China. They want their biases confirmed. I think about how I honestly can't tell you where my elders hailed from, because of cultural genocide and language barriers. This scene makes me uncomfortable, but let's press on.

Episode 4 is where Lois is most visibly Korean. In this episode the trio of Lois, Clark, and Jimmy are tasked with interviewing rich techbro Prof. Ivo of Amazo tech at an investor event. It's a prom episode. Lois wears a "hanbok inspired gala outfit" designed by Dou Hong and Jane Bak in a deliberate move to showcase Lois' Korean heritage. Bak comments "I remember feeling strongly about wanting to inject some aspect of her Korean heritage without disrupting her characteristic as a spunky and resourceful intern/reporter." while the wording poorly implies that Korean heritage is at odds with Lois' spunky personality- I do want to challenge a couple of the decisions that went into this design.

I want to acknowledge as an Asian butch that there are many ways to sport traditional garments and it's okay to mix and match to figure out what reclaiming culture (and your comfort) mean to you. However we're talking about the opportunity to showcase culture in an episode of a fictional animated show. I also encourage cultural gender expression that thinks outside of western white people's idea of gender (in both fiction and real life).

Whenever artists try to do a non-conforming spin on a cultural outfit, I always have to ask: "what standard of masculinity are we basing this on?" It's clear that MAWS is pushing for a "tomboy" Lois, and this gala outfit is an extension of that. But what's the standards of masculinity in a Korean lens? Men wear hanbok too, so why can't Lois imitate how Korean men wear hanbok, by traditionally accompanying her look with baji (baggy and loose pants)? This design notably has tight pants that hug the form, instead. I know the hanbok look has been modernized in and out of Korea in many ways, but in a show where you have the opportunity to showcase cultural non-conformity, I feel more thought should be put into the outfit outside of a potentially western lens- or the idea that cultural heritage of any sort "disrupts" a character's personality.

Now that we've discussed the design of the outfit, let's look into the narrative role it plays in episode 4. While we can celebrate cultural representation in media, I consider it important to ask "what is this media's relationship with the cultures it represents?" and the answer for Lois' hanbok in this episode is: nothing! It's an aesthetic acknowledgement of culture. "Hanbok" or "Korea" are not terms explicitly mentioned in the show. When Prof Ivo offers beautiful women as compensation for Clark to keep quiet about his company's corruption, Ivo looks over to Lois- who spills food on her clothes, and remarks that she's unclassy. She's not judged for wearing othering cultural clothes- which would have tied nicely into Clark choosing to be silent on issues of Ivo displacing a neighborhood, making Clark realize his complacency actively hurts marginalized people. Despite wearing cultural outfits being a political statement in America, nobody reacts to it. It's clear what the actual goal of this scene is: Clark looks cool for defending his "tomboy" crush.

In a scene blatantly made for fanservice, Lois offers to sew up Clark's ripped tuxedo by undressing her hanbok so she can reach her little sewing kit. Lois never wears her hanbok again afterwards. This scene haunts me. It's a scene that tells you that fanservice is more important than cultural representation. It's a scene meant to set up that Clark gives his tuxedo to Lois later on for warmth. Lois removing her hanbok is meant for not one, but two fanservice scenes.

Lois talks to Clark at the stairwell. She opens up about her estranged relationship with her father, how her mom has passed away, and how she's been an intern at the Daily Planet for a year with no sign of being hired. This makes the narrative decision for Lois to lose her hanbok far more tragic. Lois being a diasporic child with so few familial ties to her culture would mean garments like her hanbok would hold a lot of sentimental value! It's hard enough finding a cultural outfit that fits with your butchess (many of my cultural outfits are hand made to fit my form and gender expression), and yet Lois unceremoniously loses her hanbok. You would think in Lois opening up about being distant from her parents that Clark would be able to culturally relate with the distance he has with his Kryptonian parents. But the narrative opportunity to link their immigrant experiences is not taken, because the show simply doesn't recognize the parallel between the two.

Instead MAWS pushes for the Lois Thinks Superman is A Liar thing again. A far less narratively substantial and fundamentally flawed arc. This episode starts with Lois calling Superman a liar and has Lois ranting about him "dodging her questions" (remember, he was honest with her about not knowing his heritage) thereby rendering her interview unpublishable. She resorts to conspiracy tabloids giddily provided by Jimmy for information. She rather cruelly says "nobody normal believes in aliens". We are uncomfortably seeing the build up of Lois being allegorically xenophobic towards alien immigrants- a Lois on a quest to out an alien before he's ready. This is their justification for flipping the love triangle. Lois loves cuteboy Clark from work, and hates Superman for not confirming her biases that would help her publish an interview that would promote her at work. What a love story.

To wrap this episode up: Prof Ivo ends up challenging Superman to a fight so he can flex his Parasite suit to investors, only for it to backfire, destroy his reputation, and greatly damage the Amazo building (remember this it'll come back later). The episode ends with Lois discovering Superman is Clark Kent. Anecdotally, I was so frustrated with the treatment of Lois' hanbok in this episode, that I went online to search if anyone else felt similarly. All I was met with was fandom thirsting over the stairwell scene where Clark and Lois were undressing. Consider the optics of an Asian character who removed the most visible signifier of her heritage (the outfit far more culturally specific where her character design was racially ambiguous) and how people cheered because that meant they could see her in her undergarments. They can happily thirst over the body they desired now that the othering cultural garment was out of the way. It's just clothes after all. Diversity clothes. This show continues to be very uncomfortable, and a little too real.

In episode 5 Lois is passive aggressive to Clark and Superman, trying to get Clark to admit he's Superman and vice versa. She eventually confronts Clark by jumping off the roof of the Daily Planet, causing Clark to fly down and save her. She proclaims she doesn't want to be friends with him anymore for "lying" to her. This episode caused a huge ruckus online as people were divisive over Lois' actions. Some defended Lois, saying that "women should be messy" and "it's not Lois Lane if she doesn't do something crazy for journalism!". Ignoring that opinion's very flandarized view of Lois' character for a second, let's thoroughly discuss how this relates to themes of immigration and Asian identity.

By this episode, Lois had known Clark for 5 days. In that time she's entitled and angry to the point of friend-breaking-up with him because he wouldn't disclose his marginalized identity to her within less than a week. "A secret is another type of lie!" Lois says, regardless of her lying on sight to both Jimmy and Clark upon meeting them at work, and continued to lie in episode 3 (after promising not to in ep 1) about her intentions to interview Superman. Only Lois gets to lie in this relationship. The hypocrisy of her character is never recognized. Clark calls out Lois for having previously admitted to him that she wanted to dox Superman and "publish all his secrets. MY secrets!". Keep in mind that when Clark brings up Superman feeling uncomfortable about his secrets being published by Lois in episode 3, Lois' response was "yeah, but HE doesn't know that's my plan!". She explicitly admits that she would publish private information about Superman without his permission. But when she's confronted by Clark in episode 5 about that, her response is "I would never do that to you, I didn't know it was you until after the gala. How could you think that?" It's only through conflict of interest that Lois spares Superman of being doxed. He's supposed to magically know this. Extremely cool of Asian American Lois to be entitled to an alien immigrant's identity within four business days.

Episode 6 wraps up the Lois Hates Superman For Being A Liar arc, so let's quickly summarize what happens. Lois and Clark set aside their fight to find Jimmy in an abandoned scientific facility (he's being cared for by Mallah and the Brain). Jimmy admits (very smugly) to having known Clark was Superman all along because he kept breaking stuff. As the trio are chased by killer robots, they emotionally confront Clark for not trusting them with his alien secret- despite neither Lois or Jimmy creating a safe environment for Clark to come out to either of them (Jimmy outed Superman as an alien on his video channel). The moral of the story is Clark should have trusted his friends anyway, because lying is bad. Not once does the narrative hold Jimmy or Lois accountable.

We have Black Jimmy Olsen and Asian American Lois Lane being entitled to their white passing friend Clark Kent's marginalized alien identity. A joke is made at Jimmy's expense that he doesn't understand bigotry, and Lois clearly doesn't understand why an immigrant wouldn't be forthcoming about his identity to his hostile friends at work. This is how that arc ends.

I'd like to quickly compare this Lois Hates Superman For Being A Liar arc to my favorite scene in Superman Smashes the Klan. In this story, Superman debuts as a strongman superhero instead of an alien, suppressing his more othering powers to pass as human. He jumps instead of flying. Roberta, the Chinese American girl targeted by the Klan, calls Superman out for not using his full abilities to save people who could've gotten hurt. Yet, as she's calling him out, Roberta understands Superman's fear of not wanting to be othered. She sees the way her father dresses up to pass as an accomplished scientist, how he tells her mom to speak in English, how her brother makes racist jokes at their family's expense to fit in. She's not mad at Superman, she's mad at the world that would be scared of Superman if he flew.

"I wish it were okay for you to fly!" Roberta yells. This is a beautifully empathetic scene that shows a marginalized person frustrated at a systemic problem, instead of blaming the marginalized for being marginalized. It's the empathy and perspective we're missing from MAWS.

Episode 7 is a metatextual episode where MAWS addresses how their Lois isn't like the other Loises you've seen before. Lois and Jimmy are brought on to a team of alternate dimension Loises to find interdimensional troublemaker Mxy. In seeing the other more accomplished Loises in the multiverses, Lois ends up feeling inadequate about her self worth...in connection to being Superman's girlfriend, of course. Because Superman only loves Lois Lane after she wins a couple of Pulitzers, right?

I'm open to a version of Lois Lane that isn't as accomplished as she's historically known to be. I can like a Lois that's young and idealistic, like in Girl Taking Over. It's hard not to compare this episode to 2022's Everything Everywhere All At Once, another multiverse story about an Asian American woman who is the "greatest failure" version of all the parallel iterations of herself. But while that movie talks in depth about themes of generational trauma, expectations, and self potential within Asian immigrant families, MAWS uses the multiverse to say that while their Lois is less accomplished, she's still a good girlfriend to Superman! Why should I bother giving grace to a different take on Lois only to get such a superficial story out of it. This is metatextual-ly frustrating.

Why is it, the minute we get an adaptation of an Asian Lois in something as prominent as an animated show, we get "the worst Lois in the multiverse"? Lois is historically depicted as excelling in her field. She's an award winning journalist, jaded and mean from having to work her way to the top. She owns her sexuality, she's the experienced city girl. Instead of taking the opportunity to inform Lois' jadedness and excellence with her Asian American identity like in Girl Taking Over, instead we have an Asian Lois that's simply incompetent at her job. Why are we now adapting historically accomplished women into adorkable quirky screw ups? She went from being sexually confident to being insecure over sending a text to Clark. Is it more relateable to see an Asian woman that way? Is it too intimidating to see a butch Asian woman who excels at her job? Who's romantically confident? This is what MAWS would rather do than humanize her excellence or her failures.

Are you tired of an ambiguously designed Asian American woman reporter being xenophobic to Superman in MAWS? Well too bad because episode 8 introduces us to Vicki Vale, voiced by Andromeda Dunker (an Asian actress), with explicit notes in leaked concept art to design this character as "Indian American or Asian American" (as if those are mutually exclusive...) inspired off of real Asian reporter Connie Chung. Vicki wants to write a hit piece on Superman and interviews Prof Ivo's assistant, Alex, for a negative biased opinion on Superman (to Lois and Jimmy's dismay).

This episode is where it's abundantly clear the writers don't know how to talk about xenophobia. They'll make nods to xenophobic rhetoric, but they don't know what the rhetoric means. In response to Alex's derisive opinion on Superman destroying Amazo tower thereby bankrupting the company and putting "thousands out of work", Vicki responds "Superman wiped out good American jobs". This is a misplaced nod to Replacement Theory: the fear white people have over people of color, but particularly immigrants, coming to "their" country to "steal" jobs they're entitled to, ultimately becoming demographically replaced by non-white cultures and people. This rhetoric is also commonly applied to Jewish people.

The problem is, that's not what Superman did in the show. Amazo tech was going to go bankrupt because of Prof Ivo's poor business decisions. Prof Ivo made the mistake of antagonizing Superman and ruining his own image. Superman damaging the building came from his fight with Prof Ivo, not a deliberate attempt to get hired (if anything don't the building repair people have new jobs now?). No one's job is tangibly being taken by Superman. None of this is called out by Lois or Jimmy, who know the full story and were even the ones to attack Alex for helping Prof Ivo (let's be real the writers forgot this happened). In fact, Lois and Jimmy don't react to Vicki's Replacement Theory remark at all! It's like they don't even recognize she said something with racist implications!

Jimmy and Lois meet up with Superman who learns the people of Metropolis are becoming scared of him (from causing some recent property damage in an attempt to hunt a criminal down) and writing mean comments on social media. A user writes "he should go back to where he came from." This is a transparently xenophobic comment. It doesn't work in the context of the show because of a huge plot hole: Superman never publicly came out as an alien to Metropolis. No verified newspaper has explicitly made this fact known. The only source that mentions this is Jimmy's conspiracy channel, which the citizens of Metropolis are apparently treating as fact- therefore (if we're to believe this is how people knew) this means Jimmy absolutely outed Superman as an alien without Clark's consent.

So how does Asian American Lois respond to seeing her alien boyfriend go through xenophobia? She says "Take a break from being Superman and just try being normal." To be fair, the narrative does portray Lois saying the word "normal" as charged (only here at least, not in episode 4), and when she tells Superman to "take a break" it's because he had been overworking himself after suddenly unlocking the ability to hear when someone's in trouble. But was this really the response Asian American Lois thought to say? To her boyfriend going through such explicit xenophobia? At this point it's abundantly clear that racism doesn't exist in the world of MAWS. Being "normal" is to be human. And to be marginalized- or as the show likes to call it "different" is only reserved for white passing alien man Clark (along with gorilla and robot that was once a white man). Any hope of an immigrant parallel between Asian American Lois and Superman should be fully discarded at this point.

After the events of the previous episode where Superman is kidnapped by Task Force X, in episode 9 Lois regrets being allegorically xenophobic to Clark. At least I think that's what's happening. I often describe MAWS as a show that's extremely squeamish with getting political- and I believe the vagueness of Lois' Dark Night of the Soul moment reflects that. "I said awful things to Clark. I doubted him when he needed us most. I was wrong and now he's gone..." Lois says as she cries to Jimmy. Is this dialogue implying she shouldn't have told a sleep deprived Superman to take a break? What did she doubt about him? This dialogue is purposefully vague about Lois being xenophobic. They've universalized Clark's immigrant identity to such a point that they can't keep their argument consistent. Was Lois in the wrong for telling her overworked superhero boyfriend to take a break? Or was she being xenophobic for telling him to lay low for a while? Or is she regretful for hating Superman for Being A Liar? How is that possible when the narrative sided with her and Jimmy in episode 6? It's woefully non-committal. Regardless, the intent of this scene is to pay off in the climax of the episode.

In the end Superman has a showdown with Prof Ivo Parasite, who has grown into a large godzilla-esque kaiju creature. In typical MAWS fashion, the show is more interested in a surface level nod to Asian media instead of engaging with the specific themes of nature and post-war trauma kaijus and godzilla serve in Japanese culture. I digress. Using Jimmy's massive social media platform, Lois delivers a hope speech that instantly heals Metropolis of its xenophobia towards Superman.

Lois says to the people of Metropolis.: "People have told you to fear Superman because he's different from us. But we humans are capable of causing hurt and pain too. [...] Because we want to punish those who don't look or act like us." I mean this in the most polite way possible, but who on Earth thought this line was a good idea for Asian American Lois Lane to deliver when talking about white passing man Superman?? Why did the writers feel the need to specify Superman not looking like us. I simply don't understand how nobody considered the terrible optics of this.

After Superman defeats Parasite, episode 10 is about Clark, Lois, and Jimmy celebrating Thanksgiving at the Kents' house. At the Daily Planet, the trio of interns are promoted to finally being reporters. It only took Clark and Jimmy a few weeks while it took Lois a whole year! Now feels like a good time to remind you that Lois as a character was historically frustrated at sexism in the industry and despised how men were treated better than her (including Clark Kent). Well in MAWS episode 4, Lois has no idea why she isn't getting picked up to be a reporter. According to the narrative, and Perry White's dialogue ("you're terrible interns, so the only thing to do was to make you reporters")- she simply didn't break enough rules yet! Thank goodness she had the help of two men to show her how it's done! This is a pretty clear case of character regression. Keep in mind that in American Alien, at the very least that Asian Lois still underwent sexism, and I gave it the grace that the story could eventually expand to talking about both sexism and racism if it were to continue. But in MAWS? I don't think even sexism exists, let alone racism. Somehow Thanksgiving does, though.

Half the final episode is spent on Thanksgiving shenanigans where everyone's trying to be polite but they dislike Lois' stoic dad (Sam Lane)- who Clark recognizes as the Asian American xenophobic man who tortured him in Task Force X's government bunkers. A parallel is pulled between Sam and Jor-El, two fathers with different ideals when it comes to protecting their kids. There's a huge missed opportunity to have Lois and Sam speak in Korean with each other, to create a parallel in the language barrier between Clark and Jor-El. Maybe Lois isn't as fluent in Korean as Sam is depending on how culturally connected she is. Oh, but the existence of non-English human languages would imply some sort of minority, who would be marginalized, and we can't have anyone outside of aliens and a gorilla be marginalized in MAWS. Non-English languages in America are political, after all. Oh, but they also got a Filipino actor to voice Sam. Generously Lois could be Filipino-Korean but if we're being truly honest it's clear the MAWS crew think Asians are interchangeable.

Let's talk about Sam. In terms of optics, it's already not great that the main villains who represent the face of America's secret government xenophobia are Amanda Waller and Sam Lane- a Black woman and an Asian man. What's doubly notable is that of the antagonistic villains, Sam and Vicki are the most xenophobic. When Sam tortures Superman, he shouts "When is the invasion? How many of your kind will come through this time?" without a hint of irony. Reminder that historically, Asian immigrants were (and still are) considered invaders in America. They are the perpetual foreigner. MAWS loves making nods to Superman being an immigrant allegory, and yet they can't fathom the human beings that allegory is inspired by.

It's not impossible to portray people of color or even Asian American characters specifically being xenophobic. In Superman Smashes the Klan, Dr. Lee is initially antagonistic towards Superman but we understand why. We see him trying desperately to assimilate into whiteness, to the point he rejects assistance from his Black neighbors who help put out a fire in their backyard (that the Klan started as a threat). We understand why he's a character who would turn on fellow people of color, or fellow immigrants, in order to fit in. For MAWS, if we had a flashback scene where Sam was serving in the military and fought against Asian soldiers, showcasing his loyalty to America over his own people- that would narratively explain why an Asian American character would be xenophobic. Writing bigotry from within marginalized communities requires specificity. Otherwise, you've just got a diverse villain. In the end, Lois defends her immigrant alien boyfriend from her xenophobic Asian American dad.

Whenever I bring up how MAWS fails its characters of color but especially Asian Lois, I'm met with people telling me that "hopefully they'll make Lois more Asian in S2" or "they'll just retcon the bad writing in S1" and I hope this thorough analysis on the treatment of Lois' Asian American identity can help enlighten why I personally think that's impossible. The entire concept is flawed from the very beginning. The story MAWS wants to tell is at odds with Lois' Asian identity. In trying to justify an Asian Lois that loves Clark but hates Superman, they never considered what it means to hate Superman. To hate the alien immigrant. The alien other. What it means for an Asian American character to do all that. MAWS is a show that wants to have its cake and eat it too, they want a diverse world without racism or sexism but still want to reap the clout of lightly portraying Superman as "different".

They'll make the most surface level nods to Lois' Korean heritage- but remove all of the cultural context from them. They can't be bothered to acknowledge the inherit political identity being a person of color means in America, they're too busy doing that with Clark. I'm told "MAWS didn't have the time to go over Lois' Asian identity, it's a 10-episode series that focuses on Clark's alienation", and to that I say the potential of an immigrant love story and time frame was there, they simply chose to go another direction.

When I bring up things like Superman Smashes the Klan, Girl Taking Over, and Everything Everywhere All At Once, it's not to say MAWS should have used those stories as reference when crafting their allegory. All of those specific media were released while MAWS was deep in production already. Girl Taking Over was released the same year MAWS premiered. What I am saying is that we, as the audience, should have higher standards. Because better media portraying Asian American characters already exist. Better media portraying Asian characters relating to Superman mythos already exists. What we're doing when we celebrate the breadcrumbs of representation that is MAWS, is allowing mediocrity to exist uncritically.

Shows like Wednesday are known in the discourse for their portrayal of Black characters as being functionally white, yet that kind of scrutiny doesn't seem known for MAWS. The diverse reimagining of Lois and Jimmy is so poorly handled in MAWS that it would honestly make more sense if Jimmy and Lois were white here. The joke made at Jimmy's expense that he doesn't understand bigotry would be actually funny if it was calling out his white privilege. If, for whatever reason, the writers are compelled to write a xenophobic Lois that unlearns her bigotry and falls for Superman, I'd rather she be white for that kind of story. I wouldn't personally root for that kind of couple, but at least it'd make sense. It's a common joke among DCAU fans of color that we like to headcanon Lex Luthor as Black, or Lois Lane and Terry Mcginnis as Asian. It's a cruel irony that the one time we finally have a canonized Asian Lois in an animated show, she honestly feels and acts whiter than actual white Lois ever was.

I mentioned in Pt 1 of my essay that Asian Lois and Superman has the potential to be a definitive love story. One that considers both their backgrounds as immigrants, othered in different ways by American society. The story of a jaded but accomplished Asian city girl who finds hope to be herself again in an alien immigrant superhero. One where she gets the courage to wear traditional clothes again, to practice languages she once suppressed. The story of Superman, an alien immigrant, finding hope in someone with a painfully similar experience.

As of writing, we have yet to see this dynamic in any canon DC media. A second season of MAWS will not give us that story.

[izvmimi]

cw: longer drabble but no title because i suck at titles. you are bakugou's photographer. mostly sfw.

“Mr. Dynamight,” you start, sweet as can be while erring close to the side of professionalism in present company, “would you please humor us with a smile?”

Katsuki, hounded by his personal assistant amongst a horde of personal assistants rearranging the lapel of his slightly open white shirt, adjusting his cuff links, dabbing one cheek with powder and blotting excess product off the other, arranging the spikes of his hair, grimaces at you in response. Yet by the time you have settled back behind your camera and adjust your lenses to snap your next photo, his displeased look is replaced with a smirk that is cheeky yet suits his handsome face well, and you are satisfied. 

“Great!” you reply cheerfully. The shutters close, then open, then close again and Katsuki moves surprisingly gracefully with the camera, a naturally adept subject, and grins, smirks, jeers even, all manner of looks to satisfy the demands of the shoot. 

You, on the other hand, are having a blast. 

It’s your biggest gig so far, being an up-and-coming photographer, and the chance to do a celebrity profile for a rising star as Dynamight is one in a lifetime. You still wonder how you managed to get so lucky anyway - even your first meeting was a stroke of serendipity - but you are good at capitalizing on any opportunities once presented to you. 

You reach the end of the shoot and the crew offered to you by Katsuki’s team sets up around you. You stand there behind the tripod, still watching as his personal assistant, well paid but heavily burdened, begins to recite the remainder of your friend’s schedule to him, and he rolls his eyes dismissively at something she says, something that nearly causes a vein to pop on her forehead.

“Listen, I already accommodate so much of your nonsense, so the least you can do is fix that attitude,” she hisses. You wonder if he’ll yell back, but instead his eyes shift to you, and he grins. His assistant watches his attention shift, and she groans then shakes her head before reminding him he has somewhere to be in exactly two hours, and she storms past you, giving you only a millisecond of a glance as her heels click rapidly down the hall. 

You quickly avert your eyes, pretending you didn’t see that altercation, then look down at your camera to review the photos. Katsuki is quick to find his way around you, leaning in close enough that you can smell the cologne for which he is now spokesperson for, his chin nearly rested on your shoulder. You find your body stiffening slightly, but rather than let yourself be quasi-intimidated, you decide to assert yourself in return.

“You should be nicer to her, you know,” you remind him, as you click through to return to the first of the set of pictures to show him.

“I am nice,” he answers quickly.

“Just a little bit more effort,” you suggest, turning slightly so that he can see the way your eyes crinkle when you tease him. He huffs, but his lips turn upward.

“Instead of worrying about my personality, we should focus on how good I look.” You move out of the way, hands behind your back, as he peruses through the stack, one after the other. His brow furrows as he looks, back hunched, and suddenly he is so focused you find it entertaining. 

“Anything not to your liking?” you ask. He doesn’t answer immediately, and that does actually concern you a bit. What if he doesn’t like the pictures? 

You move in a bit closer to look, aiming to catch any mistakes before he does, but he places his elbow on your shoulder which makes your heart skip a beat.

“Perfect.”

You look up at him and feel the apples of your cheek warm ever so slightly. Just before you can say anything else, you hear the door down the hall close loudly. You both turn, remembering that the studio is closing. Katsuki shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll let you know if I need any more pictures taken,” he offers. You nod quickly, then berate yourself for looking a little too eager. But the extra cash can help, and he’s aware of it. He’s aware of a little too much.

He waits as you pack up your own equipment, the most expensive thing you own at the very moment. 

“Do you need a ride home?” he asks. He always does. 

You shake your head.

“I have to make a few stops anyway, and I know Suzume will get irritated if you’re late again to a program.”

“Suzume gets irritated regardless,” he replies, as he follows you out of the studio, trailing close behind. 

“It’s nice to see that you found your match,” you retort. He snorts, but doesn’t respond to that directly, making sure to let the door open for you to go through.

—

You met Katsuki in the wintertime, in the last place you’d expect the star rookie Pro Hero to be. He was the second student in an intimate pottery class of just four, and you had hardly recognized him in a large orange hoodie and khaki pants, the hood he’d been reluctant to take down the course of the entire lesson. You’d gently advised him to at least roll up his sleeves just to keep the clay away and he’d tutted at you, annoyed by the intrusion, but he’d taken the whole hoodie off anyway, and the large scar along the left side of his face, trailing down into the collar of his T-shirt had surprised the instructor and the group of students but it was the awe of recognition.

“I didn’t come here to sign autographs, I came here to make some pots,” he quickly redirected the group. You’d heard that Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight was a bit of an asshole, but somehow you’d spared the arrogant nature of his words in favor of the plea in his voice to just treat him normally. No one asked him for an autograph or really asked him any questions further, although you could see the two young women who shared the class with you eye him quite ravenously in between focused spins of the pottery wheel, paying particularly close attention to his fingers as they curved and shaped the clay. 

He didn’t say anything to you or any others after that for the first two lessons.

By the third however, as you washed your hands clear of glorified mud, he took the sink next to you and asked you why you’d come. 

You turned and looked at him, startled by the question.

“To learn how to make pottery,” you answered. Why else does anyone show up to a pottery class if not to learn?

His eyes softened at the sound of your voice, adjusting his tone as he asked the question, and something in that action, the soft warmth of the red of his eyes, disarmed you and put you at unease at the same time.

“No, why are you here really?”

You can barely remember why you answered what you did at that moment, but you remember thinking about that question all night.

“To do something with my hands.”

The faucet turned off and you bowed politely before leaving quickly, unsure of where the conversation might lead you if you managed to continue. 

Things had been particularly hard then. A slew of unfortunate circumstances, then outright tragedies had seemed to sap your energy into nothing, until you were no longer sure of what your raison d’etre was anymore. But learning to do something with your hands, the slip of clay through your fingertips, an oven to refine your work, the precision of colored glaze and something to finally sip warm tea in and hope that it not only fills your belly but your heart - that was promising. 

The next day Katsuki told you he came for the same reason, and a small friendship, perhaps out of guilt that you’d treated him coldly, bloomed. 

Once Katsuki learned about a few of your troubles, the search for a new job being one of them, he’d honed in on your skill in photography, offering you to be his personal photographer for any shoots coming up. You’d asked him why he immediately trusted you with the job, and he shrugged.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” he replied over a plain cup of coffee. 

You blinked, your half-eaten crepe seeming to be as shocked as you were from the smiley face made of syrup on your plate.

“That’s it?”

“If you’re bad at it, I’ll fire you. Deal?”

His directness made you laugh.

“Deal.”

So here you were, editing pictures of Katsuki, a man you know called friend, who’d learned a few more of your secrets than you truly needed to offer him, in the dead of night. Picking up on every detail, there were very few things to retouch; a man as naturally handsome as him is blessed by the camera, after all. 

A message from him on your home screen tells you to sleep and not worry. The pictures are already great as is.

He’s right. He’s always right.

—

The next time he hires you, it’s for a family magazine, and you tease him endlessly for it. He reminds you that he’s argued for hours to insist you get this paycheck and it only slows down your banter for a moment, until you say,

“What does an unmarried, only child, have to contribute to this shoot?”

He blinks and you wonder for a moment if you’ve gone too far. Then he smiles. 

“Are you trying to change that for me?”

Your cheeks warm, yet again, like soft clay unmolded, but he turns to leave and take position, and you are left to ponder on what he meant, thoughts formless.

—

Months later, Katsuki asks you if you’d like to come to a shoot again, but not as a photographer. 

“What’s the theme?” you ask. Katsuki’s half-sitting, half-laying on your couch, having decided not to go to his own apartment to shower, but borrowing yours. Something about renovations. You’re not sure you believe him, and public baths are a dime a dozen, even if he’s possibly too famous to end up at one.

“Heroes and their loved ones.”

You nearly choke on your popcorn, but he seems unfazed by what he said, more concerned about whether or not you’ll need a Heimlich maneuver in the next few moments.

“You couldn’t bring your parents or something?” you ask.

“My mom’s annoying, and Deku is already bringing his mom. Shoto brought a partner, so I think it’s fair to bring a friend.”

A friend. Something washes over your body and you’re unsure if it’s relief or disappointment. 

“Okay.”

—

You should have asked why Katsuki doesn’t have other friends, people he’s known longer and better, but the interview goes well. Shoto and Deku seem very pleased to meet you, Deku asking a million questions, and Shoto asking next to none, but telling you that you seem very nice and that they’re surprised Katsuki could make friends in such a setting. 

“We make art together, I suppose,” you suggest. “That probably makes it easier to connect.”

Deku nods affirmatively. Shoto watches you carefully as though he’s trying to parse out the nuance in your words.

Art. Art is what you make together.

—

The number of selfies in your phone with Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight increase dramatically. It starts off with a few candid pictures taken of him in the background of your selfies, then slowly becomes intentional.

Katsuki offers you a trip that you only realize when meeting downtown will be the next island over. He asks you to bring your camera, and you take pictures together. It’s a week before your birthday, but when he unwraps a box to hand you a pair of bowls he made in secret as a birthday gift, you find your eyes welling with tears.

“Does that mean you like them?” he asks. He carefully allows a finger to wipe away one that escapes and runs down your cheek.

“I love them more than anything in the world.”

—

“These pictures need you in them.”

His head lays in your lap as he leaves through the latest edition of Heroes Weekly. He looks great as usual - you made sure of that - but he’s lamenting the fact that there are still questions on tabloids and forums of where his romantic feelings lie. You let your fingers run through his hair, and he reaches out to grip you gently by the chin and pull you closer into a kiss. 

“We should go public,” he says, as your lips part. 

Yes, but you’re not ready yet. A year has passed and things have settled into place but part of you wants to keep this, whatever you and Katsuki are creating in your hearts, the art of your relationship, to yourself first. 

“Soon.”

He pouts which makes you smile, and then his hand catches yours in his hair then pulls it to his mouth, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. 

“Okay.” He won’t press you on it, and you’re thankful for that. 

“Suzume told me to remind you, you have another program tomorrow at 4.”

He grimaces again and you gently tap his forehead.

“She only messages me because you don’t text back,” you add. He sighs.

“Annoying.”

“All you have to do is listen,” you reply. He shrugs, then rises to a sitting position. You lay against his back for a moment before he turns and adjusts you so that you rest on his shoulder.

“Everything okay?” he asks. The gentleness in his voice soothes you, draws you into slumber. It’s late.

“We should take a painting class,” you suggest as he picks up on your cue and carries you to your bed.

“I’ll fit it into my schedule,” he offers, laying you down. You wrap your arms around his shoulders before he can escape, pulling him back into a kiss.

His eyelids lower, and both of you continue to do something with your hands - rather, your whole bodies.

[misguidedasgardian]

Wildcats (Part XIX)

XIX. Keep an eye on the horizon

MASTERLIST

Summary: Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis, that’s how it worked. 

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, angst, fluff, cuddling, inaccuracy in describing places iI have never been in, MIGHT MISS SOME IMPORTANT WARNINGS, but you know what this is about. 

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: Alrighttttt I noticed you weren’t thrilled about our decision to go to DC, but it’s gonna be fine… and Daryl won’t be in the dark for long… ANYWAYS I read a nice comment form the early chapters that said “I love reader she is so funny and badass” AND YES WE ARE, WE JUST NEED TO REMEMBER THAT, ALRIGHT? We are badasses, and she needs to “assert dominance”, and we will!. 

You grabbed your bag, with your essentials for a couple of days. 

It had been hectic, a couple of days of planning, a big map of DC, thorough planning of entrances and exits, of a plan A, B, C, you believed you managed to get to a plan M. Rick, Abraham and Rosita had given total control of the mission, letting you choose even which car to take out there, and the provisions, and of course, you consulted in them too, in all of the decisions.

Soon the night before the trip came, and you were nervous, but in a good way, in an excited way, you checked the map one more time while you were in bed, preparing mentally for everything to be disastrous, to be empty, to be destroyed, ravaged and pillaged, to not finding anything but walkers… but at the same time, you were hopeful.

Deanna had told you that she had sent a couple of people into DC, but they never got too close to the city center. 

You got startled when you felt a knock on the door, you hid the map as if you were a little kid with something you shouldn’t be, as you indicated quickly that the person who knocked could come in.

You were surprised to see Daryl there, after a week of stalking him at night time, tonight you decided to let him be, especially since tomorrow you were going to leave, and also, you didn’t want to pressure him.

“Hey”, he greeted

“Hey”, you whispered back, with a soft smile, “you went out there again?”, you asked, honestly since yesterday, when you encountered him outside the pantry, you haven't seen him much.

“Nah, I was fixing my bike”. he said, “Rick told us to stop looking fo people for a while”

“Oh”, that was news to you, ever since the dispute on the morning before his trial you had been distant with the leader of your group. Even though he seemed like his good old self the moment you asked him about going to Washington. You needed to get close with Rick again.

“What were you up to?”, he asked, seeming uncomfortable, you’d ask him to come in, but you didn’t want to scare him

“Readin”, you answered simply.

“Didn’t see you today”, he leaned against the doorframe, looking at you

“Sorry, my head was elsewhere”, you mumbled. “Did you manage to fix your bike?”, it was a  strained conversation, you could feel it. Weird too.

“Yeah”, he whispered. “Is everythin’ alright?”, he asked, and it killed you to see that glint of hope in his eyes

“Yeah”, you assured him, “it is”

“Don’t seem like it”, he mumbled

“Well, my boyfriend, or at least, who I consider my boyfriend won’t sleep with me… so I wanted to give him some space”, you explained calmly. Then you thought better of it, maybe it was too early to call him that, you felt like an idiot doing so… but something got lost in translation. What were you two anyways? is not like you were friends with benefits or crap like that…

“I am your boyfriend now?”, he mocked, lightheartedly 

“Yes you are right, it sounds childish, from now on, I’ll refer to you as my man-friend”, you said with a cheeky smile. He chuckled darkly, scratching his neck. He looked around your room, finally stepping inside. 

“Can I… stay here?”, he asked, you smiled and nodded enthusiastically

“Of course”, you said, opening his bed more for him to join you. You had become excited. He got into the bed, clothes and all. Did he even have pajamas? you had found some in the clothes the Alexandrians had given you, soft cotton, with long sleeves and legs, nothing too fancy. You made a mental note to get him some comfortable ones, he could use when he stayed in your room, or wherever.

A thing you found odd, but quite endearing when you started joining Daryl at nights… was that you seemed to fit well together all the time. Back then you barely knew each other and yet, you seemed to be made to cuddle each other. You felt your cheeks heated at the thought, and your hands a bit sweaty. 

“What were you readin?”, he asked

“Deanna gave some of Reg’s books, I found a book of poems by an artist I loved”, you said with a soft smile. He cuddled into you, and you left the poems of William Morris aside.

“Keep readin”, he begged

“It’s in my mother tongue”, you warned

“Mmmm read woman, so I can learn”, he said simply, “can’t have my girlfriend cussing me out without me knowin”, you chuckled

“You called me your girlfriend”, you giggled. He chuckled, passing an arm over your torso, hugging you, and squeezed at your teasing. You laughed harder.

“Wanna talk about it?”, you asked softly, you didn’t know how to approach him, you wanted him to tell you things, what was on his mind, you found yourself wishing you could go inside his head sometimes.. 

“Read”’, he requested softly, his head on the crook of your neck. 

Now you certainly felt guilty… For not telling him anything about the trip, but now you didn’t want to spoil the mood, so… you always had till the last minute tomorrow…

. . .

You woke up alone, which saddened you, but perhaps it was for the best… So you got up, took a long shower and got dressed. 

So now the day had finally come and you were… extremely excited. more so than being nervous, you took it as a great sign. The plans were laid down, everything was looking good, the sun was shining. You took a deep breath into the day and started walking towards the truck you had picked.  You heard behind you some hurried steps, so you turned around to meet Daryl, who looked absolutely annoyed. 

“Why did ya’ tell me?”, he asked angrily when he saw you, you sighed, “Rick told me, ya’ going to DC, he thought I knew”

“It’s nothing personal”, you said, you resume your walk, as he started walking by your side

“Feel like it is”, he said

“It’s not”, you assured him, he grabbed you by the arm softly

“Why didn’t ya tell me?”, he insisted

“I thought you were busy… with Aaron, you are the new recruiter and all”

“Don't gimme that shit”, he said, you stopped to look at him

“I want to get out there again, I’m growing roots already”, you said, “and DC is right there, we might find something good”, but you weren’t answering his question, “for some reason, every time I want to go out there, you find reasons to keep me here”, you accused, “you are out there with Aaron, he needs you, and I’m… here”, you finished 

“I wanna keep ya safe!”, he said

“Don’t you think I want to keep YOU safe?”, you asked, “but I know… I can’t just chain you to the inside of the walls here, you go out there, every damn day, and I just have to sit and pray…”

“You pray?”, he asked, you shook your head

“Now you will have to do the same, have faith…”, you finished softly. 

“You don’t want me to come”, he said, “that’s what you are saying”, he said childishly. 

“No…”, you said softly. 

“Then I’ll go”

“There is no need”, you insisted

“Aaron can keep ‘mself from goin’ out ‘ere for a couple of days”

You didn’t even know why you were being this childish. You wanted to get out there, and DC was right there, the part that confused you, is why you didn’t want Daryl to come with you, you purposefully didn’t tell him, and now you were keeping him from going

You liked him, you liked having him around, you liked kissing him, but… you felt like you needed to do this, and if he was there… you were going to be nervous, you were going to be more worried about him, -not that he needed to be cared for though-, more than doing what you wanted to do, more than finding what you were looking for

And more than that… you wanted to test it, to spend a few days away, what will happen to him, to you, to what this was between you. You needed a few days to think, to gain perspective

But he was not going to let you go without him, looks like it.

“Why do you want to go?”, you asked, “it's a huge city, we might be going into a huge trap”

“Why do you wanna go?”, he asked then

“I want to make a big supply run, and not only supplies, but… maybe… intel run, maybe we find someone out there”

“Wha’ like the president?”, he mocked

“Or like a fucking army”, you said then, “scientists…”

“I’ll go with you”, you shook your head

“You need to be here, with our people”

“Why?”

“They might need you”, you said, “Rick… I’m taking Abraham and Rosita… a lot of firepower…”

“M’sure Glenn will stay”, he said

“I need you to stay”, you said more firmly, “I think if we both go and don’t make it, the group will fall apart”

“I dun’ want ya’ to get killed out ‘ere!”, he said, exasperated

“I won’t!”, you assured him

“I dun give a damn what happens here if you ain’t here!”, he said, exasperated, he actually surprised you with that, “M’goin”

“Daryl”

“(y/n)”, he called back. You shared looks, “I’m goin”, he said, and you barely nodded

“Fine”, you snapped

“Fine”, he echoed 

“But don’t you ever try to stop me from doing something, alright?”, you warned, “And I’m leading this mission!”,

“Fine”, he repeated

“Fine!”, you said, and you walked away from here. “Get your things!”, you said, you turned to see Rick and Tyresse watching the scene, with smiles on their faces, “traitor!”, you accused Rick, pointing at him with your finger

“If he goes, I’ll be calmer”, he said, his hands on his belt. 

You then met Abraham and Rosita

“Daryl is joining us”, you said with a forced smile. It was supposed to be Glenn, but now you realized they all had been plotting against you.

He joined you soon after, only carrying his crossbow and a crossed bag. 

“I’m the leader of this mission”, you said to the group, but specially to Daryl, “as such you’ll have to do as I say”

“Yes Ma’am”, he drawled, with an amused look on his face. 

“As Rosita and Abraham will know by now, I will hear opinions and ask for advice”, you said, you didn’t want to come out bossy, BUT… you needed to lead, that is what this was all about, sort of. A weak leader was one of the most dangerous things, especially in missions like this.

You stood in front of the truck and you opened the map you had procured.

“We go in one car, hoping to bring in more”, you said, “as we discussed, we take the 95 that will merge into the 1, in the first step in our mission… the pentagon”

“WHAT?”, asked Daryl, you looked at him with a warning in your eyes, and he raised his hands in surrender. It did sounded like a movie, but… that was the center of intelligence, there must be something there. 

“Then we cross the Potomac right to the center, if the war against the dead developed similarly as the other cities we have seen… we will find rest of the military there we can scavenge”, you said, “then into the CDC”, you said drawing into the map, “for the second item of this mission, intel…”, you said, “and for the third and fourth items… supplies and medicine, amongst the ten block radio around the monuments we will find three shopping malls and others, of course, I expect them to be completely scavenged by this point, so for that… in comes the plan B, we cross Anacosita river, into the Joint Base Andrews, see what we can find there, around, are some good neighborhoods we can scavenge in case we don’t have anything by then… ”

“Fine”, mumbled Daryl, seemingly impressed.

“Then from there we take the 495 back home”, you said triumphantly. “Let’s go”, you announced, Rick had sneaked in, hearing the entire conversation.

He hugged you, surprising you

“Come back”, he whispered in your ear, you nodded

“I will”, you assured him.

“You have 96 hours”, said Rick, “if you’re not back by then, we will go looking for you”

“Fine”, you said, smiling softly.

You said your goodbyes, all of your group was there, and even Deanna. Oh you really hoped you were right with this hunch. That you were not leading them into your untimely deaths. 

That’s why it needed to go well.

You checked your gun for the tenth time, and the magazine was full, you sharpened your ax, you had a first aid kit on you, in your backpack, all the things you could need…

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine”, said Rosita, “we trust you”, she said and you smiled nervously at her

You were dying to drive, but you let Abraham do it instead, you were delegating, that’s what leaders do, Rosita rode shotgun, and you and Daryl in the back.

You felt his gaze on you, so you preferred to watch the map obsessively, and then the outside. It was a nice day, sunny, but not hot, comfortable. You took a long breath.

Were you leading your family to their deaths?

“I was actually in Washington in the 90’s”, said Abraham, “I remember it as it was yesterday”

“Did you?”, you asked.

“Yes, I have a good layout of the city right up here in my coconut”, you all laughed 

“Good to know”, you laughed. And you knew he was trying to relax you.

Yes, uncharted territory. Washington was a big city, furthest from the top ten of most populated cities in the US, but still. And it was evacuated… this could be a “gold mine”, as it where….the answer to many of your problems. 

You felt Daryl’s gaze on you, so you returned the stare. You knew you had hurt him, by keeping this from him, you had to make it right.

“I’m sorry for not telling you”, you whispered, he only hummed, “I knew you were going to try and keep me there”

“S’fine”, he mumbled

“No it’s not, I lied to you”, you said, “and I’m sorry”. you meant it, he looked at you right in the eyes and nodded

“S’ok”, he said with a nod, you grabbed his hand, he interlocked his finger with yours and he squeezed gently. 

You were glad you had him with you right now, you didn't know what you were thinking, not telling him about this, not wanting him to come. 

. . .

It was like in the movies.

As you got out of the truck and looked over the government building. The center of intelligence of the US. The pentagon. It was huge, but empty, even though, it looked in perfect condition. not a single window was broken. 

Everything was like they just left the day before, as you entered slowly. It had been evacuated… promptly. A lot of offices… you didn't know what you expected of the building. 

“Its the second largest office building in the world”, said Abraham proudly, as you sneaked inside.

Again, you didn't know what you expected, if moats and secret passages, but it looked like a normal building, an office building, like five buildings one inside of another. this kind of intel, what was the government doing in certain years, was not going to help you know… 

This thing was like a maze, and it was dangerously quiet, not a walker on sight, and -if that made any sense-, made it even scarier. As you went into offices, you noticed all the file cabinets were empty, nor a paper on sight…

You made the call of not splitting, yes you were going to take four times as longer, but that was the call you had made, you weren’t splitting, so you went trough the offices more thoroughly and faster too.

You remembered every action movie you had seen, so, only looking under desks you had gathered a good number of loaded handguns. 

So far, so good. You went into the same side of the building, through six different buildings towards the center, and you managed to gaze upon the main courtyard, you saw it.

“So that’s what they did with all the intel”, muttered Abraham. it was all burnt to the very ground, was used to be a nice yard, you’d imagine, it was all burnt. as were the millions of documents that used to be in the offices.

“I guess even after all that, after the dead rose from their graves, they had priorities”, you mumbled. 

“Let’s find the defense secretary offices”, mumbled Abraham. 

You found a shit ton of handguns, but nothing more of interest, except for a bending machine with pretty much untouched candy, your favorite. You bagged those pretty quickly. 

You felt Daryl’s presence always behind you or on your side, but he didn't question any decision you made and you were grateful, you were becoming more excited as you advanced through the building. 

“So… what's the move, boss?”, asked Abraham, as you started to wander through the huntingly similar hallways.

“We have more handguns than people in Alexandria”, you said with your heavy bag on your back. “Let’s move on to the city center”, you said softly, “before it gets dark, I don’t want to be trapped inside here with no power and no light”. You said quickly. Then you looked at their determined faces, “is that alright?”, you asked then, doubting your own decision. 

“Yes”, said Rosita, and you got into a defensive position, walking back towards the entrance of the building, having scouted two sides of it, although you had come across places you couldn’t access due to lack of power and access cards. 

You couldn’t deny you were excited to be in the capital, you had sneaked into one of the coolest buildings in the US, but you were so on survival mode that you forgot to be hyped about it. 

“Don’t be afraid to boss us around”, said Abraham, placing one of his hands on your shoulder as you were walking out, he was as entertained as you, “we signed up for this”, you nodded, convinced. 

“Than you”

“You are making good calls”, he said with a nod

“Don’t say that yet”, you mumbled. 

You took a couple of walkers that were coming for you from the parking lot, and you got into the truck again.

Abraham tossed you the keys

“Your turn boss”, he said, chuckling, and Rosita got up in the back seats, and you and Daryl on the front. You took a long breath. It's been a while since you hadn't driven. But it was like riding a bike, you never forget it. 

You were invigorated by the success so far, so you started the truck.

“It’s a stick”, mumbled Daryl by your side, doubting your skills

“So it is”, it ran without trouble. as you put the truck in motion in 1st, and then 2nd. Daryl seemed impressed. “What?”, you teased, “I know how to drive stick”, he just smiled at you. “Lead me please”

“Yes Ma’am”, he said, opening the map. 

The roads were mostly intact, so far, as were the big bridges that went over the Potomac river. This city hasn't been bombed like Atlanta had, and it was mostly intact from what you could see, just inhabited.

The Washington monument stood tall, you were embarrassed to admit you got distracted watching it and almost ran over a walker and you got out of the way.

“Ups”, you mumbled. As Daryl chuckled. You had not trouble running over a dead one, BUT, it could jeopardize the truck, it could break it, so you did not intend on doing that if you had the road space to fo around it, “Sorry about that”.

“Can’t believe we’re here after all this time”, said Rosita with a big smile.

“It’s surreal”, you whispered. You felt something strange, in the truck you meant. “Does this thing have 4-wheel drive?”, you asked Abraha,, who just chuckled

“Don’t think so”, it was an old truck. But you felt it heavy… You looked through the rearview mirror to the back of the truck where your bags where, but you knew for a fact, that even with the guns, you didn’t bring anything heavy-er… and when you saw something move back there, you hit the brakes so hard you learned like three new curse words in spanish

“WHAT THE HELL?”, asked Daryl, who might as well have crashed into the console.

“You got ourselves a stowaway”, you grunted. 

You took your gun and your ax and jumped out of the truck after opening the door and that is what got them all in alert, jumping out too. You were still over the bridge. the coast was clear,

You grabbed the thick tarp made of cloth you had to cover your things, and there he was, trembling in fear

“Eugene!?”, asked Rosita.

“Hey”, he muttered

“Damn”, muttered Abraham, then he looked at you, “how did you know?”, he asked, you just smiled

“Eugene why didn’t you tell us?”, asked Daryl, helping him out of the back of the truck

“It was a last minute call and I didn’t want you to change plans, and I thought if I did this… and you wouldn’t notice… it would be safer”

“That makes no sense”, you said, “you should have told us”

“He has a point”, muttered Rosita, and she did, this was planned for four, not five, you should have taken another car.

“I want it to see it”, he said, pointing at the monument, “but I also wanted Daryl to come and protect us”, he said, you frowned, “so he could protect you while Rosita and Abraham protect me”, he said straight to you

“I am really in the “I need protection” team?”, you asked, that insulted you a bit. You thought you were holding your ground, and not in the ”weaker” part of the team.

“No you are not!”, said Rosita, who had been giving you lessons in hand to hand combat.

“Fine, I’m sorry”, as a leader you needed to learn to make decisions when situations like this presented themselves.

“Abraham?”, you called, “Ride in the back, with our biggest gun, that view will alert us if something is strange, watch out for snipers”, you told him, in a very professional manner

“Yes Ma’am”, he said, climbing into the back

“Remember our code in the RV?”, you asked him, “two taps for slowing down, three taps for stopping, one long one to watch out”

“Indeed”, he said. You then turned to Eugene

“Well, like I said, too many times already, you are under my command”, you said Eugene and he nodded quickly, “and under my protection”, he opened his eyes widely, “let’s go, before it gets dark we need to find a safe place to spend the night”, you said surely. 

And, with a slight change of plans, you entered the very center of Washington DC.

With no idea what waited for you there. 

taglist! <3

@crazyunsexycool @capricxnt

[painted-bees]

Since I've been rotating Raf's mental illness in my mind this month as a way of smoothing my own brain, I've been thinking a lot about the ways his PPD and CPTSD symptoms interact, and how it affects his behaviors.

Firstly, Raf's paranoia isn't commonly accompanied by narcissistic traits. That is to say--he's not especially prone to believing that people have him on their mind all the time. If he walks past two people laughing, it's not his gut instinct to think that they are laughing at him. However, it is certainly his gut instinct to assume that they are laughing at someone.

But, unless they deliberately pause to regard him in an off putting way, his brain isn't gonna jump to the conclusion that he's the topic of their little chortle.

In fact, Raf rarely feels like he is being deliberately belittled by honest remarks when they are simply worded poorly. In some ways, he greatly prefers being called a jackass, to his face, in flat tones--than to receiving sweet, placating platitudes in a kindly tone. No matter how genuine the kindness may be behind the latter, Raf generally tends to interpret it...poorly. It gives him a really bad gut feeling, like they're buttering him up, mincing their words in a shallow attempt to gain his good opinion...all so that he won't suspect them later. Suspect them of what? Who knows. Something bad, something exploitative, something abusive. To him.

Raf doesn't suspect that everyone is out to use or exploit him. He fully believes that most people are capable of not thinking about him at all--even if he is physically present around them, such as in a busy train station. However, he does suspect that everyone who goes out of their way to interact with him, and especially everyone who wants to get to know him only do so in order to use or exploit him. And his basal understanding of human behavior is, generally, that kindness and good manner are most frequently used as tools of manipulation for personal gain rather than as an expression of genuine love and care. And he recognizes that this is only possible as a successful tool of manipulation because, just like him, everyone else wants to be genuinely loved and cared for.

Even his uncle, whom Raf does genuinely loves and trust, is suspected of being as kind and accommodating as he is to Raf only because doing so soothes his uncle's guilt and gives him a moral leg up over the rest of Raf's family. And part of Raf's initial willingness to trust his uncle is that his uncle never really...denies that this is, at the very least, a part of it. And--if that's all Uncle Bill really wanted outta Raf, then that was a perfectly livable arrangement.

Raf's CPTSD, on the other hand, generates the shame that serves as the crux for a lot of his self-critical introspection. Even before his diagnosis, he was harboring a sense that something was really, deeply wrong with him--like he wasn't a real person. And so, it felt radically audacious to assert that he deserved to behave as a real person; which included the right to feel and act upon anger and sadness--and to have those emotions received and treated with any level of respect by those around him. Until his final year at Juilliard, he was kind of in a placid(listless) state of learned helplessness. He'd do what ever he had to do to meet the expectations of his peers and instructors (namely, amphetamines. So much amphetamines.) It was just baaarely enough to get him his degree, and it ran him ragged and beyond resentful. He fully left Juilliard with the mindset of "I'm entering my villain era, I'm fully committed to being a Bad Guy, I am ok with everyone hating me now". And the "bad guy" behavior was just...saying no to stuff he didn't want to do, self-isolating, and outwardly expressing/lashing out when something viscerally upset him.

Which...thanks to the personality disorder, meant he became prone to yelling at people and accusing them of hurting or betraying him when they, in fact, did not. Especially...almost specifically the people closest to him, who cared the most about him and whom he cared the most for. And that's quickly what lead to his diagnosis, which kinda put an end to his 'villain arch'. So now he's back to reckoning with that sense of "something is really, deeply wrong with me", but at least now he has a growing understanding of what that is. And also the notion of "I have the 'bad person' disease--I am a Bad Person if I act on my core suspicions and beliefs, I cannot fucking trust myself, I can't trust my own perception of people or events." And now he's gotta balance that with whole "I deserve to feel safe, comfortable, and respected" alongside the critical notion of "but so does everyone else".

He hates it when people try to get to know him, he is fundamentally mistrustful of people. But at the same time, he has a lot of difficulty balancing his boundaries against the infringement of other people's boundaries--and the root understanding of "Something is wrong with me, I'm the problem, the fact that I think other people are the problem--is part of the problem that is me." is what motivates him to delay acting upon his negative impulses as much as is is able to, and to exercise kindness even when it feels like he's walking directly into a fire.

So, his overall kinda...thing is "I don't trust any of these guys, they clearly want something from me, and if I let them get close enough, they won't care if they have to hurt me to get it[PPD] but I'm a fundamentally busted person with a fucked up perspective and thus it is actually safer if I prioritize their comfort over my own[CPTSD] within certain parameters[therapy]"

and, idk...the big flashing red "ISOLATE, ISOLATE, ISOLATE" sign shows up in there on a frequent enough occasion that he just...has no real friends, despite a billion "good" acquaintances.

Despite all his mistrust and suspicions, the feelings of being fundamentally unlovable for willfully/protectively limiting the range of his 'usefulness', his terminally pessimistic outlook on the nature of human beings--he craves so tremendously to be loved and cared for and held and reassured in such a way and to such an extent that could never be fully sated, I am sure. But he couldn't stand to receive it from someone he can't believe in.

Margie accidentally hack speedran his CPTSD coping mechanisms so hard that she clipped through his paranoia until the collision error launched her into Trusted Person status. And he's just mostly confused and a bit anxious over how it all happened so fast.

[that's a joke...kinda]

[dangermousie]

I continue to be immensely fascinated by the husband's story because unlike the usual villain who wronged our protag, he's not enjoying the fruits of his misdeeds, he's living in hell personally tailored to him.

I mean, look at his reaction when princess is announced, it's terror and despair.

And this is vvvv abusive marriage vibe except they ain't married, and despite all her words, I am not sure they will ever be, he's not really a person but a toy and who marries a toy?

And then she proceeds to her hobby of dismantling him piece by piece.

And this is her reaction to his begging her to stop.

It's like she's taking out all her frustrations in life - being sent as a hostage (and she probably didn't have a great time), not having real power etc etc on a personification for her of that. The reason she's glommed onto him is precisely because he started out as an idealistic official and she can't stand that so she's dismantling it and him piece by piece. She wants him precisely because he doesn't want her but sees no choice but submit. If he was super into it and her and enjoying or at least not minding being a toy and abandoning his principles, she'd be bored in five minutes flat. What she enjoys is the breaking process and she does it well and thoroughly. Hell, I bet if he didn't care about his wife at all, she wouldn't have bothered to tell him to have her killed either. I agree with @aysekira that there are shadows of Princess Yun Rui in her (but Yun Rui tangles with Fan Xian who is neither weak nor incapable of thinking out of the box so she gets thwarted unlike here - but I am thinking of that scene in s1 where she reveals to FX she's the one who had his friend killed and she's trying to drink in his despair and rage and getting off on the thought that he wants to kill her and can't - their scenes consistently have the same badwrong chem as scenes here with husband and the princess.) They are both batshit and what they get off on is not sex but control and power and pain.

I mean, hello crazy, who has live targets?

And look at her rage and punishment when he steps up for the student she picked and offers to be the target instead - their whole relationship is the struggle between him trying to assert as much idealism and principles as he can, futilely and desperately, and her precisely and slowly crushing and grinding it to dust. I am beginning to think he's gonna snap and murder her at some point and honestly I bet it's that possibility that excites her.

I mean, the hell!!! It's like disobedient toys are better off dead. She's insane.

It's a confrontation of will between them because he's trying to keep some sliver of his soul and she doesn't want him to.

He would have been better off taking his wife and going on the run and taking his chances when she first cast her eyes his way (with some way to off themselves if they got caught because it wouldn't have been pretty if they did get caught by her.)

Hell, he'd have been better off dead.

And it feels like karmic justice and a super interesting narrative choice.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 14)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Brief Mention of Stillbirth

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

Over the past few weeks, Cillian struggled quite significantly with the fact that he had lost his wife Danielle and Max, the young boy he did not father but whom he considered to be his son. Cillian also struggled with the fact that he had, under the directions of his sister and lawyer Siobhan, cut all ties with you.

She believed that continuing any form of relationship with you would only serve to harm his reputation in court and jeopardize his chance of winning some form of access rights over Max who she now knew was not Cillian's biological son. 

"When she called, did she say how she was?" Cillian asked, referring to the phone call Siobhan took on his phone. The person who had called was you but Siobhan refused to hand Cillian the phone but, instead, told you to not call Cillian again.

She warned you about calling ever again, stating that doing so would result in receiving a cease-and-desist order from her office. Stunned and confused, you hung up the phone with little knowledge of how to handle the complicated situation you now faced. Not only were you pregnant with Cillian's baby, but you also had been ordered to avoid any contact with him due to the potential fallout. 

"Siobhan, how is she?" Cillian asked again since his sister did not respond to his question the first time around.

"Did she seem alright, on the phone?" he wanted to know and this question caught Siobhan off guard slightly, prompting her to shift in her seat uneasily. She too did not know that you were pregnant and responded sternly to her brother's query.

She hesitated briefly, choosing her words carefully. "She was fine. Stop caring about her, Cillian," she told him but Cillian couldn't help but worry.

"Danielle sent her to hospital, so of course I care," he retorted, causing Siobhan to sigh.

"Yes she did, because you fucked her, in your marital bed," Siobhan blurted out vehemently. "Y/N did not bring a charge against Danielle and, thus far, Danielle hasn't mentioned Y/N's existence in court. We will want to keep it this way. No one needs to know about your affair with a 19-year old woman!" Siobhan barked furiously, slamming her palm onto the table in frustration. She understood that Cillian was deeply troubled and struggling with his own demons, but bringing such scandal into light may cause irreparable damage to his image - not to mention risking the legal case against his ex-wife Danielle. 

"I know. I fucked up, okay?" Cillian confessed, finally admitting his guilt. It felt good to get it off his chest, though it did nothing to alleviate the weight pressing down on his shoulders. His family was falling apart, leaving him broken and unable to fully process the painful truth. 

"But my brother and his wife kicked her out. That's at least what Paddy told me. And I want to know if she is doing okay. That's all," Cillian persisted firmly, refusing to let go of his concern for you.

Siobhan looked at her brother, irritated by his determination to cling onto feelings for you.

"Y/N is fine. Now leave it alone, Cillian," she commanded, standing up to assert herself more clearly. "You aren't in love with her, are you?" his sister questioned worriedly.

Cillian swallowed hard, contemplating his answer. "No... no, I am not. But I do feel responsible for helping her, especially given our circumstances," he admitted honestly, recognizing the gravity of the situation you were entangled in. Siobhan's eyes narrowed suspiciously, sensing something deeper behind her brother's words.

"And why do you think that is?" she pressed gently, seeking  clarification and Cillian bit his lip, still unsure himself. 

"Maybe because she is young. She is only nineteen and she is family," Cillian explained sheepishly, casting his gaze away from his sister's judgmental stare.  

"And yet, this didn't deter you from having sex with her now, did it?" Siobhan continued her accusatory approach, shaking her head disapprovingly. "Of course not! You just think with your cock, don't you?" she spat derisively. 

Her response struck Cillian speechless, causing his face to flush red with embarrassment and shame. Even in the heat of passion, he could never imagine things would escalate to this level. 

"As I said, getting involved with her was a mistake

." Cillian murmured, looking downwards to avoid eye contact. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, feeling guilty and ashamed. What he was thinking of doing wasn't right and he knew that deep down, however much his desire consumed him.

In contrast, Siobhan showed no remorse, remaining unwaveringly firm in her convictions. "Well, then you need to fix this mess. And stop talking to her. She doesn't matter, anymore" Siobhan demanded harshly, her eyes cold and unforgiving and Cillian promised her not to enquire any further until, another two weeks later, and much to Siobhan's surprise, Danielle brought your name up in court. 

This unexpected development threw everyone into chaos as this affair between him and you put him into an extremely bad light.

For someone whose career revolved primarily around his strong public persona, it seemed like a death sentence for Cillian's career as well as his court case and, with that, Siobhan's instructions suddenly changed.

She had to go into damage control and, in order to make Cillian look any better to the public and the judge, she now encouraged him to get you to take the stand and talk about the fact that Danielle had pushed you down the stairs.

Siobhan hoped that presenting evidence of violence perpetrated by Cillian’s estranged wife might discredit claims made during their divorce proceedings, painting Cillian in a somewhat sympathetic light amidst these allegations surrounding his sexual tryst with you.

"So, after almost six weeks now, you want me to call her? Seriously?" Cillian exclaimed incredulously, raising his eyebrows in shock. He hadn't expected this turn of events, particularly coming from his sister. The mere thought of you taking the witness stand filled him with anxiety.

"Yes. Now that Danielle brought up the affair with her, she needs to tell everyone about the assault so that I can make sure that the judge knows that Danielle isn't capable to have sole custody for Max," Siobhan

reasoned reluctantly. She understood the importance of providing evidence in court to support her client's argument, even when it meant potentially damaging her brother's already precarious reputation.

Cillian nodded solemnly, knowing full well that there was little choice left for them. With everything spiralling out of control, they had to rely on your testimony. "Alright, but she might say no. I ignored her for six weeks and now that I need her help, I am actually calling her. It is an asshole move," Cillian muttered bitterly beneath his breath, resentfully picking up his cellphone. His fingers trembled slightly as he dialed your number, anticipation building inside him. Would you agree to testify? How much had this whole mess affected you? So many questions flooded his brain, weighing heavy upon his heart.

"Hello?" Your voice sounded cautious over the line, uncertainty evident in its tone. You were surprised by Cillian's call and wondered whether he had found out about your pregnancy.

"What do you want?" you thus asked after he simply said "hi" but nothing else as you were trying to hide your fear.

Cillian cleared his throat nervously before speaking. "Look, Y/N, I realize I acted badly towards you recently, but please understand that my life has become quite complicated lately," he began sincerely. 

"Well, so has mine and whilst I wanted to talk with you about it, your sister shut me off," you countered, your voice growing angrier. 

Your hostility took Cillian aback momentarily, but he steeled himself, deciding to remain composed despite your barbed remarks. "I know, but her intentions weren't malicious; believe me," he pleaded earnestly.

There was genuine desperation in his voice, hoping that you would forgive him eventually, but you simply couldn't. 

"I don't care Cillian," you snapped sharply, your temper flaring quickly. "All you ever wanted was to use me – both emotionally and physically. And once shit hit the fan, you discarded me without any second thoughts," you yelled through the phone, unable to hold back your anger any longer. "I needed you in the past few weeks because, not only was I kicked out of my family's home, I also found out that I am pregnant," you revealed, fighting back tears.

This revelation caught him completely off guard, leaving him reeling. He paused for several seconds, processing this news. Then, he spoke slowly, "You are what?" Cillian repeated, barely able to register your startling announcement. He struggled to maintain composure, his thoughts racing wildly.

"I am pregnant," you confirmed again, allowing the enormity of the statement to sink in.

Cillian's entire world came crashing down around him as he realized that, somehow, the nights he spent with you resulted in a child growing inside of you. This wasn't how he intended things to happen, but here they were, a result of their recklessness and ignorance. 

"Am I the father?" Cillian hesitated briefly, attempting to compose himself. However, you cut him off mid-sentence, responding impassionedly, "Of course you are the fucking father. I never slept with anyone else and you should know that!" 

You vehemently defended yourself, adding insult to injury. "But don't worry, I am booked in for a termination procedure next week. Problem solved!" you said and the cruelty of those words cut deeply into Cillian's heart. All that time he had been selfishly obsessed with his own wants and desires, failing to consider the potential consequences - including yours. Realization dawned on him gradually, hitting him squarely in the face like a sledgehammer.

"Please wait… No, Y/N. Don't terminate. We will sort this out together," he implored urgently, panic creeping into his voice.

You fell silent, taken aback by his sudden change of attitude.

"Are you fucking serious? You want me to keep the baby?" you asked skeptically, astonished at the idea.

Cillian couldn't believe what he heard either. Was this truly happening? "Yes, I know it's asking a lot, but give me a chance to figure this out," he replied earnestly, attempting to convey his sincerity in wanting to be part of this child's life.

Your brow furrowed with confusion, "You are insane, Cillian! Why would you ask me to keep this child? I just finished school, and the last thing I need is more responsibility. Not only that, I haven't spoken to my mother since all this happened. I have no money. No permanent housing. No career," you argued vehemently, frustrated with the prospect of carrying a baby conceived outside a relationship. 

Cillian listened intently, struggling to find the right words to assuage your concerns. 

"I will take full financial responsibility if you decide to carry the baby to term and I can take care of the our child whenever you need me to. Every day even. I will buy you a house. I'll pay for anything you need," Cillian offered determinedly, clutching onto hope. 

"Cillian, I am not ready to be a parent," you retorted, still clearly angry and hurt.

"Then let me have the child," he persisted gently, understanding your apprehension.

"What?" you asked, confused. Could Cillian really provide for everything you need and want? You didn't trust him, but something about his offer felt...different. Maybe it was his insistence, maybe it was his determination, or perhaps, it could have been the hint of vulnerability in his voice that gave you pause.

After a long silence, you finally answered, "Listen, I think we should meet and talk about this in person. You clearly lost the plot." 

Cillian agreed readily, relieved that you seemed open to discussion. "Whenever suits you, just let me know." There was hopeful expectation in his voice.

All he ever wanted was a family but, when him and Danielle tried to have a child together, it never happened. She never carried to term and, after that, she never fell pregnant again. Perhaps their DNA was simply not compatible  and, according to the specialists, he was the one to blame.

In the end, Danielle had a child with another man and Cillian loved this child as if he was his own. This child's name was Max and Max was Cillian's world. From then onwards, Cillian dedicated himself fully to raising Max, making it a priority to ensure that his son knew he adored him.

He knew that he could do the same for this child, the one you were now carrying inside you. The child that was his.

Cillian couldn't believe it was true. Here was a possibility, albeit unexpected, to rectify some of the mistakes he made earlier. After all the wrong turns he took throughout his journey, he hoped this situation could lead him closer to becoming the kind of father he always wished to be. The irony was striking, considering he initially sought comfort elsewhere. But now, fate was presenting him with a unique opportunity—one which held unimaginable weight. He had to make this right and was determined to  do whatever it takes.

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[a-boca-do-inferno]

i’ve been losing you (michael corleone x reader) [request]

summary: Michael is used to a lot of things. Losing’s not one of them.

warnings: angst

words: 1.0k

notes: loosely based on ive been losing you by aha, and yes i kno i kno. another songfic lol enjoy.

This was long overdue. 

They were meant to be in each other’s path, but not for long. She knew that. No matter how well they got along in the old days, rejoicing in that youthful love full of energy and innocence, there would always come the time when their personalities eventually clashed too much to make it work. His reckless and cold mind could never comport her sensitive and careful one for long. Gosh, how many dinner arguments had to happen to spoil the mood for her to just accept it already?  

There was nothing left to do with Michael Corleone. He ran an empire, yet was clueless on how to keep the woman he loved close. And a king who can’t love a queen is simply no such thing.  

(y/n) takes a deep breath and raises her fist to knock on the door, but as soon as she tries to do so, it opens on its own, revealing a somewhat disturbed Michael. He has a serious, almost mad look on his face, although his entire countenance manages to be cordial. She smiles faintly as he lets her in, closing the door behind her gracefully.  

The girl walked into his office and couldn’t help but notice how tidy everything was. Nothing out of place, not a single speck of dust on any furniture. Sometimes she wished at least something was there; it’d make the place feel less...  

Michael’s.  

“You said you were staying at you mother’s”, he begins, hiding his hand in the front pockets of his pants. “What happened?”, his tone is stern, as ever, and she can’t help but contain a sigh. (y/n) clasped her hands over her stomach, feeling a little cool. She wasn’t exactly there for some hugging and cuddling, after all, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Noticing the shift in her behaviour, Michael murmurs, “(y/n)…”, and the girl turns to face him. He wore a white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His brown hair was brushed back, no unruly strands fell to the sides. He was so handsome and put together. How in the world did they even end up together in the first place? Michael’s eyes were a little concerned when he demanded, coming closer to her, “tell me what’s the matter.” 

“Nothing”, she said, looking away when he seemed to disapprove of her blatant lie. (y/n) added, “there is nothing wrong, we just... We need to talk.” 

“About what?”, he gestures with one hand. “You’re making me worried”, she let out another deep sigh. This was going to be harder than she thought. Michael took an impatient step forward and gave her a questioning glance, lowering his eyes to her restless fingers. “Well?” 

“I can’t do… this anymore”, she couldn’t face him, counting the scratches of the floorboards under her feet. “Us.” 

There is a long silence before Michael speaks again. “(y/n)...”, he starts, closing the distance between them while gently taking her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. He placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles and she instantly flinched at the gesture, taking her hand back. He gave her a pained look. “What’s going on, darling?” 

“Michael, please...”, she whispered, trying her best to maintain her composure. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is.” 

“You’re leaving me?”, he rips the band-aid, and it sounds somehow even more painful when she hears it out loud. “Is that it?”, Michael insists, and she desperately looks for the emotions on his face only to find none.  

This. This was what she couldn’t take anymore. 

“I am”, (y/n)’s voice is final, as the lump on her throat takes a step back to give way for her assertiveness. That decision was made already, she merely wanted to let him know. “I know I’m hurting you, but you too know damn well there is no “us” anymore, Michael.  There is only the family business, and I came to terms with it at last. I finally understood I can’t be part of this.” 

“So, is that it?”, he repeats, but it’s clear he’s not looking for an answer. “You just wake up one day and decide to throw our family, our children, our love away? You just leave when it gets hard?”, he menacingly takes one more step closer, with almond eyes forcefully staring at the girl. “Is that it?!”, then it comes; the scream.  

And the sound is so otherworldly coming from Michael’s mouth, (y/n) has to reassure herself of her surroundings for a moment, to truly know if this is reality. Then, after the silence, there is only his look of despair towards her. She knows him well enough to understand he is distressed but won’t allow himself to engage any further in that subject for now. He is too emotional about this. Perhaps that was why Michael kept away from her more and more every day. The Don wouldn’t have his heart dictating his actions, in business or in love, and the two were helplessly intertwined when it came to his life.  

“I’m leaving”, she murmurs, holding her own body protectively. “You can visit the children whenever you want, we will be staying at my mother’s for the time being”, they exchange a piercing look. (y/n) avoids his eyes. “I love you, Michael, I truly do. But we both deserve better.” 

“This isn’t over, (y/n)”, it’s all Michael lets out, while turning his back to light up a cigarette. He blows away the smoke and nods once, pointing to the door. “Go.” 

She obeys him, because it’s so much easier to do so than to keep fighting. Before (y/n) leaves, she can’t help but think he would make her life a living hell. A shiver goes up her spine as the door shuts behind her. Michael Corleone may not be fit for a king, but he wasn’t a losing man either. She was painfully aware of that.  

“God help us all”, she mumbles to herself, walking away from the Corleone mansion for the last time. 

Or so she hoped. 

[morlock-holmes]

Part of my confusion about "Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria" is that it's really just... not a good term? It doesn't really reflect what it's supposed to, which is the idea that some teenagers essentially take on a trans identity as a sort of social role spurred on by friend groups.

I think that this is likely to be actually true in at least some sense, so I was amazed at how unconvincing the Littman paper which coined the term actually is. The parental narratives advanced in that paper are just unbelievable on their face.

Ever since the gay rights movement I've felt that our vocabulary for talking about this stuff is deliberately incredibly stupid, for reasons I haven't quite been able to suss out.

In the gay rights battles, everybody got together and agreed that there were exactly two possibilities:

Gay people are born that way

Gay people made a choice to be gay

I think this is really dumb because those are really obviously not the only two options, and also because there's lots of biological "born this way" things we still treat or try to eliminate, and lots of choices that are still incredibly important to protect.

But also, like, okay, think about sexual fetishes. Say you have a guy with a cheerleader fetish. Cheerleaders are a contingent social phenomenon; no 12th century Breton had a cheerleader fetish. The possibility of such a fetish arose with the invention of the cheerleader.

But it's just as obvious that people do not choose their fetishes the way that they choose, say, a new car. Nobody says, "After listing out the pros and cons, I felt that having a cheerleader fetish was the best choice, because it combines a little bit of exotic spice while still being mainstream enough that it can't be used as blackmail if people find out about it."

No, one day you just realize that you think cheerleaders are really hot.

I do tend to think that gender identity is, for most people, a lot less immediately set in stone than sexual orientation is. My personal impression is that the vast majority of people start to understand very quickly whether they are attracted to men, women, or both, and that they only tell themselves differently because they fear social censure.

I'm not really convinced that the same is true of gender identity; I think that for an extremely large number of people it does function a bit more like a fetish, in that there are people who encounter the idea for the first time, go, "Huh, yeah that's cool or whatever" and after repeated encounters come to think, "Actually I am really into this."

I'm very, very suspicious of the tendency to then assert that this must inherently, then, be a discovery of something that always existed within the person since birth.

There's also the fact that gender roles exist, and people want to be legible to people around them.

For a lot of people, dressing up as a vampire on Halloween is fun, but dressing up as a vampire to go grocery shopping in June would be deeply embarrassing. Because on Halloween all the people around you understand why you're dressed that way and your dress makes you part of a larger social whole; in June you're going against the grain, marking yourself out from the people around you, probably drawing stares and hidden smiles.

Because sex roles in our society are so set in stone, there is a certain extreme dissatisfaction with not following them, even when allowed to do so.

I can wear chokers and frills and pretty hair ribbons if I want, but the women around me can do that anywhere in the country and have people think of it as normal, as obvious, rather than *a statement*.

Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, from reading the Littman paper, seems to refer to a parental conviction that their child essentially got the idea to be trans from a peer group who convinced them they were trans despite a lack of gender dysphoria in childhood.

Like I said, the general narrative is really, really hard to believe at face value, for example:

A total of 63.8% of the parents have been called “transphobic” or “bigoted” by their children for one or more reasons, the most common being for: disagreeing with the child about the child’s self-assessment of being transgender (51.2%); recommending that the child take more time to figure out if their feelings of gender dysphoria persist or go away (44.6%); expressing concerns for the child’s future if they take hormones and/or have surgery (40.4%); calling their child by the pronouns they used to use (37.9%); telling the child they thought that hormones or surgery would not help them (37.5%); recommending that their child work on other mental health issues first to determine if they are the cause of the dysphoria (33.3%); calling the child by their birth name (33.3%); or recommending a comprehensive mental health evaluation before starting hormones and/or surgery (20.8%)

So, like, the whole tenor of the paper is that these are basically very liberal parents who are sort of being cut off by their kids for no reason, but like...

This is typical of the general weasel wording used by Littman. Are the third of parents who called their kids by pronouns they used to use going, "She - Oops, he, I'm sorry" one time and getting blasted? Do they claim to be trying but just get it wrong literally every single time? Or do they just flat out refuse to call their child by their preferred pronouns?

When my brother was first entering high school, he joined the Sea Scouts, a division of the Boy Scouts dedicated to learning about sailing. He later entered a maritime college and has had a succession of maritime jobs, which will likely be his career for the rest of his life.

Is that the result of social contagion or was he born that way?

I think the question is obviously both absurd and irrelevant.

[getvalentined]

I am so sick of people asserting that Cloud's father is some super special important person like it's some explanation for the fact that he was able to save the world. Superior bloodline stuff never sits well with me in the first place, but in this case it's just so antithetical to the actual thesis of FF7 and does such a huge disservice to multiple characters that it makes me white hot angry.

The most popular contender is President Shinra, because Cloud being a Shinra bastard would (somehow) explain why he's allowed into the company at such a young age (even though enlistment age appears to be 14 and Cloud left Nibelheim to enlist at 14) and how he wound up on so many important missions—because it can't possibly be that he's actually competent, he's so pretty, how could he possibly be competent? It's not as if we see him being staggeringly competent from jump in every title where he's featured, including those that start prior to him being forcibly mako enhanced by Hojo. Clearly this is nepotism.

After all, we know that President Shinra is always so supportive of his bastards! That's why Lazard hid his identity and worked his way up the ranks to become director of SOLDIER at the youngest possible age and then set about trying to orchestrate a hostile takeover of the company by allowing all three of his best operatives to defect in the middle of a war, a process that was only thrown off because one of them passed off every single mission where he would have had an opportunity to go AWOL.

This was clearly the result of nepotism. There's just so much nepotism going on there. Obviously.

The newest contender is Glenn Lodbrok, the lead character from the First SOLDIER section of Ever Crisis, because he's blond-haired and blue-eyed and presumably one of the first people in Project 0 to survive some level of the mako enhancement process. I guess this is supposed to mean that him being Cloud's father would be a perfect explanation for Cloud actually being capable of literally anything, since the only way for him to become the hero that was chosen by the planet to keep it alive would be if it's part of some bloodline destiny.

There are a whole host of issues with Glenn as an option here, not the least of which is the canonical lore about Cloud's father, namely that he was some nobody traveler who kinda passed through and got Claudia pregnant and then left; he may have died up in the mountains, but apparently all that was ever found was his pack, so there's no way to be sure. Further, Claudia was very young at this point—according to her original concept art declaring her to be 33 at the time of her death, she gave birth to Cloud at 16-17 years old.

Glenn is one of two possible age ranges: if he was active in the early stages of Project 0, being a character in the First SOLDIER battle royale game, then he was around 21 in 1985, meaning a 21 year old knocked up Claudia Strife when she was 15 and then walked out on her. If he's 21 during the events of Ever Crisis, which seems likely based on his character design, that would make him 14 at the oldest when Claudia got pregnant.

Okay, I know this kind of thing happens IRL, but I feel pretty confident in the statement that there is absolutely no way that that's the direction SE is taking this timeline and characterization. I'm not even sorry. That's not happening. Either he's giving "predator," or he's Deadbeat Dad: High School Freshman Edition.

But that's honestly not even the worst of it, the math not matching up is entirely irrelevant when the implications of this assertion are applied to the actual thesis of this series as a whole, to the characters we already know, to the actual lore. Claiming that Cloud is only special because of the sperm donation of a man who abandoned him literally removes any concept of his competence as a character, declaring that he's just the newest iteration in a line of "worthy" men. He can't be worth anything unless his father is worth something. He can't be good at anything unless his father is good at something.

Beyond that, it casts Claudia aside entirely, asserting that the fact that she raised Cloud doesn't matter—she may have brought him up entirely on her own, but that doesn't actually matter. She didn't instill values and morals and guidelines into him that would allow him to grow up into a man who could save the world, she was just an incubator, a nursemaid, a nanny, a cook. She was just a servant who kept him alive long enough for his father's bloodline to awaken within him and make him into the hero he was always meant to be.

Insisting that Cloud's value as a character hinges in any way on his father, a person who had no place in his life whatsoever and whom he doesn't even remember, takes away his agency and declares Claudia to be irrelevant. It says that a sperm donation matters more than an upbringing. It says that the place he started is the only thing that defines where Cloud will end up.

This is literally, 100 percent, the opposite of the thesis of this series. The entire concept of these games, of these storylines, is that the way you were made doesn't have to dictate what you can be, who you are, where you're going. Your genetics do not define you, and assumptions to the contrary are literally what make people into monsters. What matters is the people you love, the people who love you, and the person you are now as a result of those people.

And the fact of the matter is that regardless of timelines, regardless of characterizations, regardless of theories, Cloud Shinra and Cloud Lodbrok didn't save the world.

Cloud Strife did.

Claudia Strife's son did.

And I think people could stand to give both of them a hell of a lot more credit.

[viridianevergarden]

Reading comprehension and critical thinking has really gone out the window hasn’t it? At least in a portion of the fandom.

People are forever stuck under the presumption that Az feels pure lust for Elain and nothing more. That lust suddenly doesn’t go hand in hand with love? That Az is mentally fucked up and should get therapy yet no one else in the IC should? That Az is wrong for naturally shifting his feelings of love from one person to another? That he’s wrong because he didn’t “take a break”? That because of these, Az doesn’t deserve to have love and to love in general?

People are also forever stuck under the presumption that these characters are oh so evil and shouldn’t deserve love at the same time? Take Rhys for a popular example. (When it’s a book series about the ‘villain’ getting the girl. The math isn’t mathing. He’s not even a real, true villain).

No character in ACOTAR is meant to be a saint, I thought everyone knew that. (Oh my god! Morally grey characters when they do morally grey things, shocking😧)

I find most Azriel antis are literally just people who can’t put two and two together. Or just don’t like him for whatever reason they may have. (Everyone has their opinions, yes). But my god, the shallow interpretation and failure to understand his character annoys me ngl. He’s a complex character but he’s not a damn mathematical equation. (He is complex yet linear.)

“He only thought about sex in the bonus chapter.”

As if Elain also wasn’t aroused too? And gave him permission? (Omg, mutual consent! Blasphemy!)

But also the fact that they disregard Az’s noticeable and careful attention to Elain that he has shown throughout the entire series? They disregard purposefully romanticized moments?

“What happened with Elain?”

“What about Elain?”

“I’m getting her back.”

“I can imagine.”

“Would you like me to show you the garden?”

“There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

“This is Truth-teller.”

Shadows gathered around the room like snakes preparing to strike.

“Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

“Wait until everyone is seated before eating.”

“We need to get these chains off her.”

Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring [Elain]…

“She doesn’t need anything.”

“The Cauldron made you a Seer.”

“Happy Solstice.”

Staying up with her til 3 am, talking about her gardening plans.

The kiss on the cheek.

“Beautiful.”

Countless times of him gently carrying her around.

Him constantly looking out at her garden.

Him spending actual effort to get her a thoughtful gift for solstice.

Facing death itself to get her back immediately by himself.

A laugh so deep and joyous.

Looking at that headache powder every night for over a year without ever using it.

The absence of his shadows in her presence.

“His secret to tell, never hers.”

Need I go on? Azriel is always hyper focused on Elain. Always. If it weren’t for him, Elain would probably be dead or in more trouble than she ever would have been before.

If all Azriel cared about was slipping under Elain’s dress, why did he attend to her so? Why is he hyper aware of her? Why is he so assertive with her needs over anyone else? Even over Nesta? Why would he feel the need to defend her against Nesta, her own sister, if it called for it? Why does he respect her and Lucien’s boundary by refusing to have eyes on Lucien for the sake of their privacy? Why was he the only one to show initiative over anyone else to get Elain back to safety now rather than later, by himself, even if it meant certain death?

But yeah, all he wants is her body. Right? Yeah, that makes sense…

I’m just saying. No main SJM character would ever go through so much effort just to bed another character. Thats not SJM’s style nor is it logical in the slightest.

But oh yes, he feels entitled to her and her body…

…Entitled?

Wrong E word.

Envy ≠ Entitlement.

Feeling Envious of the love that his brothers have? Of the bonds they have with the other sisters? Yet he’s the only one left all by his lonesome? He feels left out. Third wheeled. And rationally so. He’s happy for his brothers but envious all the same. (As if Cassian didn’t feel the same but no one said shit about him did they?)

I’ve said this in another post too but he is NOT looking at Elain and going “she should be mine.”

He doesn’t even think he deserves her for freaks sake.

Rhys doesn’t really know Azriel. Cassian doesn’t really know Azriel. No one truly knows Azriel. The only one who has truly understood some semblance of Azriel is Elain. Even when his heart and feelings are so incredibly gated off from everyone.

So that word —entitlement— that people keep throwing around from Rhys’ lips is completely misguided.

The sheer mischaracterization makes me see red 💀

But back to the point, with obvious and mutual romantic feelings, being horny is normal. (This is also an adult romantasy series, shocking that there’s sexual content).

I’ll die on that hill for Az and Elain.

I don’t get how it can be this hard, but maybe it’s just me.

[vexingwoman]

do you ever have those moments of guilt for what you believe in? I was crypto until someone outed me in real life, and the way I’m completely shunned is making rethink everything I thought was true. I can’t tell anymore if I really am just a common bigot or if everyone’s gone insane. I wish there were more resources for “terfs” who have been outed against their will. It’s scary, and the community *never* talks about what to do.

It seems pretty stupid to feel like a bigot for believing in sexual dimorphism but hey. If someone said the sky was green and berates you for thinking otherwise….wouldn’t you just start thinking the sky is green. Or at least wanting to.

Yes, in the beginning stages of my peak, watching women who I considered highly intelligent defending this sexist nonsense constantly made me doubt myself. I used to contact some of these women with my ideological concerns and ask for their input, because back then I was still convinced there was surely something I just wasn’t getting. I still had hope that someone could offer something other than circular definitions or uselessly obscure non-answers, but they never did. Every single person I attempted to have this conversation with simply stopped replying when I rejected their sophism and pressed for actual clarifications.

There was this one non-binary female I was debating who said, “No matter what you think, we will always continue to exist” which was so contrived I could only roll my eyes. But then I kept thinking about that statement and why it didn’t sit right with me. I realized it was because despite how much the TQ+ community declares that gender is a social construct, they fail to see their gender identities as something contingent on that social construct. 

They depict their gender identities as something innate, something they are born with, something comparable to being black, disabled, homosexual, or any other demographic that would continue to exist independently of social constructs. That could be why you’re so doubtful; you’re being made to believe that rejecting trans ideology is the same as being racist, ableist, and homophobic, when in reality it’s more similar to rejecting religion, conservatism, conspiracy theories, etc. You are not rejecting a person, you are rejecting an idea—a regressive and harmful idea at that. 

I also think it’s objectively observable that trans ideology has far more overlaps with homophobia and misogyny than radical feminism does. Ie., trans ideology asserts that if you’re feminine, you must be a woman. Homophobes and misogynists assert that if you’re a woman, you must be feminine. Both of these groups are upholding the same sexist stereotypes, just in reversed ways.

On the other hand, radical feminists don’t believe femininity has anything to do with being a woman at all. Anyone who is intellectually honest can tell who the real bigots are. Unfortunately, trans ideology is anything but intellectually honest. It relies on deceit through word-play, circular definitions, and sophism because intellectual honesty would reveal how unsound, sexist, homophobic, and regressive this ideology actually is.